


An Angel's Descent

by HackedTig



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Age Difference, Alcohol, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Masturbation, Nicotine use, Pining, Rivalry, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Smut, Substance Abuse, Wet Dream, Workplace Rivalry, alcohol mention, but its for science, self experimentation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2020-09-29 16:18:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 34
Words: 106,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20438912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HackedTig/pseuds/HackedTig
Summary: Brilliant, revolutionary, a true asset to the medical field, just a few things Angela Ziegler has been told through her life. Joining Overwatch, Angela thought she’d continue to do amazing things unabashed by anyone.Intimidating. Challenging, Morals so grey you could paint them in shades, Moira O’Deorain is known for being a pillar of gruffness with a determination to finish an experiment no matter the cost. She typically drives new ‘lab partners’ away, but it seems this new one isn’t going anywhere. She’s got an attitude, too.An angel meets a demon, but that isn’t always a bad thing. Is it?(Ratings and Tags completely subject to change at any time)





	1. The Angel's Arrival

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Welcome to An Angel's Descent, the Moicy Longfic that I've been planning to write for *ages*. 
> 
> At first, it was 'To Dance With a Demon', but I hadn't updated it in over a year. It felt like it would have been strange to update it now. I've a new timeline for this fic, and hopefully, with support, I can update it further. The warnings and the tags are always subject to change, as per usual. 
> 
> Seeing as there will be a lot more language diversity in this fic, any phrase said completely in bold text, is whichever language that character would natively speak. For example, If Angela speaks and the whole phrase is bold, shes speaking Swiss German. Moira's whole sentence is bold, she's speaking in Irish Gaelic. (This way, I dont fuck up with google translate, for I am merely an American who half-assed French in high school.)
> 
> Words are over, enjoy the fic you guys! Comments and Suggestions are ALWAYS welcome!

Angela had never been on a plane before. Not that she could remember, of course. But a dropship used to carry soldiers to and from battle had to be different, right? It seemed to be the only Overwatch Official lift they could get to a place like Zürich quickly. Not only was the spontaneous trip throwing off her nerves, but as was the very presence of Ana Amari. 

She had met Ana once, visiting the base on a college field trip to the Swiss Overwatch Headquarters. Some members were there for the time being, including the bulking behemoth of a man that had rescued her from being slaughtered by the same machines that gutted her parents, Reinhardt was his name. She took a picture with them after having a very fast pace and exciting conversation with him. At seventeen, Angela had the innate urge to share all of her progress and discoveries with him and his (comically short) companion. Despite not being able to understand any of her scientific babble in her native tongue, Reinhardt had still patted her on the back and told her how good she was doing. 

The chatter filled event lead to a photo with a few key members, Angela kept it tucked in her primary binder even now at the solid age of twenty-two. A fact she tried her hardest to hide from Ana as they went over many of her papers and observational works in said dropship, just to ensure that they really were on the same page. 

From their brief introduction five years prior, and this moment now, Angela had assumed Ana just merely wasn’t that emotive. Every now and then there was a twitch in her lip, and finally, a nod as she allowed Angela to close up her binder. “Just as I read in your thesis papers, Angela. Your work truly is on an amazing path.” Ana told her, crossing her legs as she took a more authoritative stance. “It will benefit you greatly to continue developing with Overwatch.” 

Angela’s face flushed deeply. “Thank you, Captain Amari.” Angela’s accent was still quite thick, even though she had been speaking in English for most of the day. She had gotten plenty of practice, being a trauma surgeon and English being a primary language in the hospital. But that still didn’t stop her native tongue from trying to wriggle its way into every word. 

Ana nodded yet again. “When we arrive at the Gibraltar base, I’ll escort you directly to the labs you’ll be working in. Unfortunately, due to your new and young status, you will have a lab partner.” 

“Oh?” Angela’s back straightened at the mention. It wasn’t anything new, of course. She had another attending with her at all times in the hospital. “Do I know them?” 

“Are you informed on Genetic research of the day and age, Angela?” Ana asked her curiously. At the shake of Angela’s head, she merely continued on. “Your partner will be Moira O’Deorain, shes a Geneticist with enough medical background that we’ve hired her for her to also further her scientific advancement and studies. She’s under my division of work. You might even see her in the Medical Wing if times are tough” Ana explained to her. 

Angela looked down at her binder, drumming her fingers along it. “... O’Deorain? I think that name rings a bell…” She murmured, chewing her lip and zoning out, just for a small moment as her mind worked. When she looked back up, Ana’s eyes were fixated on her intently. 

It was a strange moment of silence before Ana cleared her throat. “I’ll leave you in the lab to get settled while I arrange the rest of your set up. Which bunk you’ll be staying in and retrieving your ID for you.” Ana explained, going more into detail of just what they’d be doing upon arrival. And yet… Angela’s mind couldn’t stray away from the name. She had heard it, she just couldn’t remember where. 

The thought kept her busy until the ship’s rather rough touchdown. She shook a little in her chair as Ana very gracefully stood. “Come, Angela. Let’s get you settled.” 

\--- --- --- 

The halls had been amazing. Pristine linoleum floors, white in color as the walls were blue. Some hallways had messages or inscriptions of encouragement. Others had photos of soldiers who had fallen in the line of duty, particularly in which department. Angela was quick to note that the labs were quite far from the hangars, and probably far enough from the dorms that it would be a decent walk every morning just to get to work. 

The laboratory section was more muted. The walls were grey, and many people in either scrubs or labcoats like her own roamed the floor. There was noise from a door down the hallway, loud enough for Ana to stop and sigh. Angela’s inquisitive gaze settled on the door until it opened. A young-looking woman with tears in her eyes and papers in her hands came running out, nearly running into Ana and Angela in the process. The captain merely sighed as she approached the door, sticking her foot to the edge before it could close completely. Angela was right beside her, looking inside curiously as she clutched her own binder. “Chased away _another_ Lab assistant, Doctor O’Deorain?” 

The moment her eyes fell on the woman in the lab, Angela’s heart seemed to skip a beat. 

Tall, prominent in her tailor labcoat, made especially long for her exceedingly tall frame. She was one of the most impressive and distinguished scientists Angela had ever seen. The sharp glare of an eye with her head turned to the side really made Angela freeze. It was almost like the woman was boring into her very soul. 

“She mixed up my solutions and nearly caused a meltdown in my lab, Captain Amari.” the woman, Moira O’Deorain had responded firmly. She turned her full body attention to the pair who had entered her space, and cocked an eyebrow up, staring directly at Angela with such an intense gaze. It made her shrink in her own body. “Can you see into the future now too, bringing me another assistant already?” 

Before Angela could find the words to defend herself, Ana took an extra step forward. “This is Angela Ziegler. She’s going to be working along side you on her own projects. Do try not to send her crying like you did that poor girl.” 

Doctor O’Deorain made a noise as if she scoffed, turning away and back to her table. “So long as she keeps her hands to herself.” 

Ana sighed but gave Angela a small, assuring glance. “Shes always bitter. You’ll get used to it. Settle yourself in and I’ll be back in a bit.” 

Just like that, Ana was gone and the lab door closed, leaving Angela alone with her new partner. She clutched tighter at her binder before moving around, just to see what her new ‘lab partner’ was fumbling with, and also to catch her attention. “Doctor O’Deorain? It’s a pleasure to meet you” Angela tried to be kind, even offering her hand out. She merely glanced over, looking up at Angela’s hand, then her face, before turning away. 

“Keep to yourself. Do not touch anything without permission, and do not bring your sunshine and enthusiasm. Young ones like you really enjoy bringing a grating positivity in the labs.” Doctor O’Deorain said stiffly, arranging her set as properly as she seemed fit, before pulling her full attention to Angela. “You look like an absolute infant. Are you still in Medical School, Zeegler?” 

“It’s… It's Ziegler.” Angela softly corrected, pulling her hand back slowly to hold onto her binder closer to her chest. She could feel her heart hammering with each word, and she wasn’t sure if it was fear or upset that was causing it. “And, no. I’m a trauma surgeon. I was actually the head of my department…” 

Another quick size up and Doctor O’Deorain seemed absolutely unimpressed. “Keep your belongings over there. There’s an unused table you can take. Now kindly, stay out of my way.” Picking up a few papers, she moved away from the current table they were at, moving back to a space that looked like an office desk... With the solid addition of a microscope. Now that Angela had a moment to observe the whole laboratory, she already felt homesick… It was dim and a disaster, with papers and vials scattered in places she wouldn't think of. She had merely hoped it was partially in fault to the lab assistant Moira had chased out only a short while ago. 

Keeping to herself just as Doctor O’Deorain wanted, Angela moved to the table she was told was a spare. There was in fact no papers or important pieces of equipment, so she set to work arranging herself. As well as her binder, Angela did have a laptop satchel with her. She set it up first and foremost, putting the binder to the side. Just like her old table in the research lab. Once she was satisfied with it all, she decided to take another glance around the lab. Angela was always one for learning new things about her new colleagues. And perhaps if she looked long enough she’d be able to tell just what about Moira O’Deorain jogged her memory. There were two whiteboards in the room, filled with scrawls in purple marker. 

The notes were based on genetic development and regeneration of cells, a very basic conceptualization. It was fascinating, to say the least, and after a little while, she was staring at the board, taking in the information and picking up the marker herself. She made small annotations, in German, along the sides. She muttered to herself the information she was intaking, and she hardly noticed the presence behind her. Just until it spoke. 

“Comments are not worth anything if they are not in a common language.” 

Angela jumped, dropping the marker as she turned. The older scientist had snuck up on her damn near like a cat. “I-I’m… I’m sorry” Angela said, almost a little too quietly. “I was fascinated I- I just…”

“Keep your hands to yourself” She stated bluntly, bending down to pick up the maker Angela had dropped in her fright. “And off of my whiteboards.” 

Nothing else was said after Doctor O’Deorain left from behind her. Angela watched her walk away with doe eyes and a shake in her hands. Something bubbled up, and she couldn’t quite help herself. “**Why do you have to be so rude?**” Angela asked boldly in her mother tongue.

Doctor O’Deorain turned to her, a slightly irritated note to her face, indicated by the way her eyebrows sat. “Care to repeat that in _English_, Doctor? Or are you going to take this wise second opportunity to keep your mouth _shut_.” The words were so rough, angry-sounding. Angela almost wished she did challenge her in English first. 

Despite the courage she had for her initial statement, she clammed up immediately after, taking a step away from Doctor O’Deorain. Her submission elicited a very clear reaction from Moira. “Good, you’re not as stupid as your Ditzy Blonde exterior makes you appear,” She said before sitting back at her desk, glossing over her papers once more and all ignoring Angela’s existence in her lab. 

Frightened and stiff from the slight confrontation, Angela walked back to her ‘designated’ table, booting her computer up to get it warm for later. Her hands shook as she tried typing up her password, she’d never found someone so disgruntling in her short life. Never someone so against the presence of another human being. But at least the notes on the whiteboards did jog some form of memory and not good ones. 

\--- --- ---

It took Ana nearly two hours to return to the lab. In that time, Doctor O’Deorain didn’t move from her desk once, and Angela was nearly fed up with her position, and without much ‘acquainting’ going on, she felt more like a prisoner with a warden. 

Angela was gifted her official Overwatch ID, her picture the same used from the hospital ID she bore right along with it on a clip. It not only gave her access to her living space, but also to Moira’s lab. To Angela’s near-perfect delight, her bunk was a single room, the second bed that should have been there was exchanged for an extra desk for Angela’s studies she wished to take with her and observe in her own room. Ana stood by the doorway as Angela found every piece of her luggage together and at the foot of the small twin bed. The room was blank, but not for long as Angela was already trying to piece where she’d display each of her awards and diplomas. 

“It isn’t much,” Ana started off simply. “Definitely nothing compared to a cozy home, but hopefully better than a college dorm room.” 

Angela turned to her with a fond smile. “Danke, Captain. It’s perfect.” 

A soft smile came from Ana in return. “That’s good. I’m glad you like it. If there is anything you need Angela, don’t be afraid to come to me.” She said, waving her off and leaving the doorway. 

Once Ana left her to her own devices and the door slid shut, she set her desk up first, pulling the picture from her binder and setting it on the keyboard of her laptop with promises of a frame later. She took a few other important pieces out of her bags, like her scrubs and her labcoats before eventually just flopping on the bed, staring at the ceiling. 

“**Can you see me from there?**” Angela seemed to ask to no one in particular. “**Can you see where I am? What I’m going to do? I’m going to change the world…! All I need to do is research and get stronger. I’ll make you both proud here.**” The smile on her face was wide, despite the day’s struggle with Doctor O’Deorain. Nothing could kill the true deep joy Angela felt. 

No, Overwatch’s military practices didn’t suit her ideals. But the way Ana had presented it… No one would end up like her parents did ever again, should her contributions actually provide useful to them. That was all the encouragement Angela needed. 

Not even Moira O’Deorain could ruin her determination for that.


	2. Fitting In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela has a hard time trying to work her way through getting used to Overwatch on her 'first' day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick update! I'm already working on chapter 3, honestly. I just got a strong urge to write and I'm putting it to good use. Enjoy!

Angela was dressed more properly for her part this morning. In navy-blue scrubs and her lab coat, she was ready to face the day and its challenges. Her old uniform from the hospital would have to do until she received all of her Overwatch Issued uniforms and patches. Seven-hundred sharp she was outside her door, and Ana was already walking down with a tablet in her hands. “Doctor Ziegler, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this morning, are we?” 

“Yes, Captain” Angela responded, squaring her shoulders slightly as she gripped her laptop bag tightly at the straps. “Where are we going first?” 

“The Medical Bay,” Ana answered almost in a matter-of-factly tone to her younger companion. “We can get you acquainted with your office and get a physical on you.” 

Angela’s eyes lit up at the words, eagerly following Ana as they started down the hallway. “An office? Just for me?” 

Ana chuckled fondly at her enthusiasm. “As per the agreement in transferring you to Overwatch, you keep your position you had there as well, head of Trauma. Which, translates here to being one of our head medics.” She explained. 

At the mention of ‘head medic’, Angela did have to stop, only for a moment. “As in…? I’ll be out on the field as well?” 

“Eventually.” Ana nodded. “Which is why we need a physical to ensure you’re fit for the physical labor of following soldiers on foot.” 

Her heart sunk at the idea. That wasn’t exactly what she had agreed to, but seeing as the rest of her dreams were coming true, she could stand to sacrifice a little more effort elsewhere. “Not every mission, right?” Angela asked curiously. 

Ana shook her head. “Of course not. You wouldn’t get any work done if we sent you everywhere.” 

Well, that was a relief. She squeezed her straps tighter as they walked out of the living area. The Medical Bay itself wasn’t far, meaning it would be easier for Angela to check in here in the morning than it would be to check-in at the lab. It was merely the second corridor out from the dorms, placed there possibly in case someone had an emergency in their room, or if they rather have rested in their own bed versus a medical cot (which, Angela personally would have taken a medical cot over that bed again any day, but that was just her and the scratchy sheets). 

The turn into the Medical Bay was a bit more lively than the corridors just outside. There were a few other doctors, nurses, even a few mission-ready Combat Medics milling around. All of them were either sharing medical charts, transferring medical goods, or on their way to appointments. No, there weren’t more than twenty people in the room, but it filled her heart with joy as a familiar sense of belonging washed over her. “Mein Gott. It looks wonderful…!” Angela couldn’t stop the words from her mouth. 

Ana chuckled slightly. “All yours for the exploring, Angela.” She said kindly, following Angela as she seemed to take her own charge. There was no direction necessary as she started her own personal tour of her secondary workspace, learning where each needle, vial, gauze pack, and bed dressing was stored. Where each door leads to which operating room, to any individual patient privacy rooms, and finally where other Medical Lead offices were… including the last one at the end where a very familiar name lit up by the holo was. _Angela Ziegler M.D._ was now on the side of the door, and Angela nearly felt her heart jump out of her chest. 

Inside was just as perfect as she hoped it would be. A spacious desk with a desktop computer situated, two sorts of file cabinets, and enough space for whatever decorations she wished to add to the room. She already started planning it out elaborately in the back of her mind, muttering softly to herself in her mother tongue before turning back to Ana, who stood still by the doorway. “It’s perfect, Captain.” Angela felt her throat close up a little as she fought back tears. “Danke. Thank you.” 

“You’ve no need to thank me,” Ana told her gently, smiling very slightly. “Do your work and you’ll be sure to keep all of these treats in no time. Now, you have a physical to get done before we go anywhere else.” 

Angela almost completely audibly groaned. She hated physicals… 

\--- --- --- 

Not only did Angela have to find a flex between being stationed in the Medical Bay and doing research in the labs with Doctor O’Deorain, but she was also assigned to basic training with rookies, every morning, at the same time she was ready now. Angela had never been very physical, but if she was supposed to be a Combat Medic like the rest, she needed the training. Ana had already sent a few fresh sets of training uniforms to her room for the new routine as well.

A loop through the mess hall to grab breakfast and a mug of coffee and Angela was free to do as she saw fit, so long as she reported her progress back to Ana by no later than 20:00. Angela spent all morning going through the Medical Bay, learning and memorizing where everything was. Her brief tour from before could not do the natural set up justice. She even gave herself some false scenarios, picking up the attention of other doctors who found the behavior strange. Intern strategies never failed her before. 

By the time lunch had rolled around for her, Angela couldn’t think of any more scenarios, nor could she tolerate the stares of various older agents looking at her as she did her drills, speaking to herself in Swiss German the entire way. 

She kept mental notes as she took herself to the lab after eating, using her ID to scan in. The moment she stepped foot inside, she earned a particularly disgruntled looking glare from Doctor O'Deorain. "You're actually here today?" The words were just as harsh as her stare.

"I work here too, be it you like it or not," Angela said boldly, squaring her shoulders. "I won't run away just because you seem to have a problem with me."

Nails drummed on her desk as O'Deorain seemed to be irritated, but she made no move to stand. "I have a problem with children being in my lab. Just do not touch anything." She said, locking her eyes back down at her microscope. 

Angela frowned as she moved to her "designated" area. "I can't do my work if I can't touch anything, Doctor O'Deorain." Angela said as she propped her laptop open. 

"Find your own equipment or wait until I'm through with my test. I'm not holding your hand." O'Deorain said sternly. She didn't even bother looking up from her sample this time, and Angela tried not to let herself get upset or consumed by it. It seemed no matter how professional she tried to make herself, her new lab partner was not impressed with anything. That train of thought brought up a much different question in mind. 

“Have you read any of my papers, Doctor O’Deorain?” Angela suddenly asked her, looking in her direction as she hovered over her laptop, already loading up files. 

Her partner raised her head, glancing at Angela from across the lab. “You said you were a trauma surgeon,” O’Deorain responded, clearly not the least bit interested. 

“Yes, that was my position,” Angela stated. “But I was an innovator. I developed a method of rapid healing during surgery to reduce hospital stays.” 

O’Deorain actually sat up proper in her chair, looking at Angela with a whole gaze. “The Use of Nanotechnology in the Operating Room?” She quipped the title of Angela’s most recent published work, and her eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. 

“Ja!” She responded brightly. “It has the recent notes on my larger surgeries and-” 

“Childsplay, really” 

Angela froze up at the interruption. “... What?” 

O’Deorain stood, digging through her desk for just a moment before producing the paper that she had just referenced. Angela could see even from there the heavy annotation and analysis done on the paper, feeling her stomach turn in her abdomen. “Ah, I see now,” She said, examining the front page of the paper. “Angela Ziegler. You’re that ray-of-sunshine myth that the interns have been discussing. Aged twenty-two. Not a single soul has put a damper on your work in your life, so you arrive here expecting the same star-struck treatment. No wonder your very presence puts a thorn in my side.” 

“B… But the quality of life advantages…!” Angela’s voice was small as she watched O’Deorain walk over. She felt as if she was about to be consumed by a giant… and given their height difference that may as well have been exactly what happened. “Reduced stays and- and smaller bills…” 

The paper was put roughly on her desk, and Angela barely had the courage to tilt her head up and observe the expression on O’Deorain’s face. “I suggest you get used to criticism, _Angel,_” She said harshly, the nickname grating on every part of Angela’s confidence. “Not everything is rainbows in a war environment. Adapt and Evolve, or go back to Switzerland and to being a little Trauma imp.” 

Angela took hold of the paper carefully, the purple-black ink scrawled all over her paper was damning in its own right. She had never seen so many notes on her own paper before, and even further… most of them were in a language other than English. One she couldn’t read. As O’Deorain walked back to her desk, Angela remained standing, and she couldn’t let her offense hold back any further, even if she was put down. Her hands shook as she threw the paper back down. “You criticize me on writing notes in Swiss German on your whiteboard. Yet you hand me a paper written in… in…!” 

“Gaelic,” O’Deorain said for her. “The point of handing you that paper wasn't for you to read the comments. But for you to understand nothing is perfect. And no, before you ask, your Nanites will never have any combination with my cellular reconstruction.” 

“How can you be so awful?” Angela suddenly snapped back up, her eyes burning now. Tears threatened to come but she wouldn’t let them. “I’ve not done a thing to you! How can you treat someone so terribly when you barely know them!?”

O’Deorain barely reacted to the outburst. “I learned everything I needed to about you from your papers. In the field of science, you’re but a child. Children have no place in my laboratory.” She looked back up at Angela again. “Now before you react, are you going to respond like a scientist? Or like a child, Doctor Ziegler?” 

That was about the straw. Every part of her body screamed to run and get away from this living embodiment of a toxic pool. But something in her, _deep_ within her, rooted her to the spot. Slowly, she sank into her chair, eye contact remaining steady with O’Deorain, until the latter broke the gaze to focus on her research once more. Nothing else was said, and there was nothing else Angela could fight herself to say, lest she wanted her entire composure to really break in front of this vile woman. 

Opening a document, she started a fresh new tally of documentation. 

\--- --- --- 

Dinner was too far away for Angela’s liking, but once it arrived, she couldn’t be happier to get herself out of the lab. She felt that if she had left sooner, she would have proved O’Deorain’s words correct, and she would resolve to return to her homeland and her hospital with her tail between her legs before the week was over. But if there was anything Angela herself was good at, it was surpassing expectations. No one had expected the orphan to excel in classes. No one anticipated the young teenager to have the highest score in the medical exams to graduate or to finish her intern test within thirty minutes. 

And Moira O’Deorain did not expect her to stay in Overwatch for long. Angela was determined, if anything, to at least last a year. A year filled with condescending words and comments from O’Deorain and pressure to perform on the field. It would be difficult, but Angela would do it. She could do _anything._

Despite her own small pep talk, she sat alone to a table off to the side at a later hour of which dinner was served. There weren't many soldiers there now, not nearly as many as there was thirty minutes ago. She almost felt ostracized and alone. Not an uncommon feeling, but something she had hoped she wouldn’t have felt by now. 

As she picked at her dinner salad, a booming voice echoed in the mess hall that she hadn’t quite expected. 

“Angela! The little dust Angel!” 

She perked her head up to see Reinhardt, the older crusader having saved her nearly fifteen years ago. A smile lit up her face as he came over, a little too quickly, and opened his arms for a hug from her. “Fräulein it’s been years! How are you?” 

Angela accepted the hug quickly, letting the behemoth of a man wrap his arms around her and support her in a hug unlike any other. “Hello, Reinhardt…!” She smiled fondly, sinking into the warm hug. “I’m .. I’m alright. Getting used to it” 

Reinhardt smiled as he let go after a few long moments, looking her up and down. “You look so grown! What are you doing here? You’re far too small to be a soldier!” he joked with her, clapping a hand to her back. “Did Captain Amari bring you here?” 

“She did,” Angela nodded. “To further my research on nanotechnology for healing purposes” Angela explained. Despite her excitement to share her knowledge, she unknowingly deflated as she thought about it, and the annotated paper marked in her binder. 

A moment of careful silence passed by before Reinhardt reacted more proper, looking at Angela and her crestfallen look. “Did something happen? Someone say something?” Reinhardt asked her curiously, taking a seat and allowing Angela to resume hers. “Or do you not like it here?”

“It's… not that I don't like it… its... “ Angela bit her lip, and with a bold attempt to explain herself better at the risk of being misunderstood, she changed it up. “**I feel like I’m being treated as a child by my peers and I’ve barely been here a few days, they don’t know me, they don’t understand what I’ve done to be here. They probably don’t even know my name, only taking it from my looks**”

He did in fact take a moment to listen to Angela’s ramble. Their home languages were similar, bared with some differences. An extra moment was needed to process it before he nodded along to her words. “**Overwatch has everyone from all walks of life, Angela. All you need to do is prove to them yours is no less, or ignore them. If Ana has taken you in, you do not need to worry about anyone else's opinion of your presence.**” Reinhardt told her confidently, his voice suddenly warmer than it had been a mere moment ago. It seemed he was much more capable of being calm and giving proper words of support in German. 

Angela also needed the moment to process it before she nodded. “Danke, Reinhardt…” She said softly, wiping her face with the back of her hand just in case some tears fell. 

“You can always come to talk to me if you’re feeling blue, Angela,” Reinhard said kindly with a big smile, hidden only slightly by his mustache. 

They sat together, sharing some almost useless drabble of conversation until Angela’s tray of food was empty. They caught up on the past few years of life, explained some linguistic differences, and overall, Angela was able to forget about what had caused her so much stress and worry in their first place. The energy that caused her to be down on herself dissipated, and even as she stalked back to her room, she felt an odd sense fill her. That she wasn’t alone. It almost made the whole trip worth it. 

She changed into plush pajamas and fell on her bed, pulling up her paper with her own bright orange pen. If O’Deorain was going to tear her paper to shreds, she might as well examine where it all went wrong, even if she couldn’t understand a lick of the language scrawled on her sides. 

It proved to be a decent nighttime activity. After she worked her brain around all the highlights and annotations, adding her own as if there was some hidden code to unlock, a game cheat to decipher, Angela had her own deeper understanding of her work, and even found plotholes where she didn’t consider them before in her hospital laboratory, or even under the spotlight with her vial of nanites to heal the surgical incisions. Reflecting on the notes she made in the lab on the whiteboards, Angela also added tidbits to her notes. 

She had plenty to build on the next day. 

O’Deorain would not stop her. 

Angela _would_ prevail in Overwatch. It was a promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I know Angela and Reinhardts dialects are different, but I imagine its something along the lines of the differences between American English and UK English. But more complicated. It takes a minute to figure it out but once they do its fine. 
> 
> Hopefully another update should be rolling around shortly please feel free to give me any comments or suggestions!


	3. Angel In Mortal's Clothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Angela passes a physical assessment test, she's sent to the field by Ana. An Easy mission, Ana claims, that ends in near disaster for Angela.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to do this last night, got tired, went to sleep, slept all day, and now I have work in an hour :V ENJOY

Her alarm screamed at 06:30 exactly for the past month and a half. Early mornings were no stranger to Angela, she used to wake up at 4:30 for intern shifts. This, however, was a different set of dread that, at first, she really didn’t want to get used to. Angela never missed the soft feeling of her clogs so much in her life as she strapped on the boots for her combat work on the training field. 

Surrounded by men and women both taller than her, more widely build, and training their whole lives for a moment like this, Angela felt like a mouse among cats. Standing in line with them, back straight as a board, she cursed herself for not doing more stretches in between her studies. Where these men and women had trained their lives, already used to the behavior, Angela was not. She trained herself in the use of a scalpel and chest compressions, not running and push-ups. 

The first day she had done training, Angela pushed herself the moment she was ordered to run the track with the rest of them. Her lungs burned before long and she dragged behind. Before she even finished her two-mile laps, the group was already moving on to the next activity, and the instructor was barking (as well as botching) her name from afar to catch up with them. 

But of course, six weeks into her regimen she was at least keeping up. Today was no different, reaching in the median lap time, meeting and exceeding the reps for their exercises, and even moderately passed the assessment for her to move on to more difficult training, even if she hated it. Among those watching her successfully complete the obstacle course was, of course, Ana. Waiting off to the side, she waved Angela over when she had finally got her face out of her water bottle. 

“You did great, Angela,” Ana commented kindly as Angela jogged over to her. “You really did do plenty to impress me there. Is that what you were trying to do?” 

“Not necessarily,” Angela smiled faintly, pulling some strands of hair out of her face. “I’m actually flattered that you stayed to watch.” 

Ana chuckled as she motioned for Angela to follow her. “Well, I had to see for my own eyes if you were ready for deployment. There is a mission coming up the other Combat Medics could use your help on.” She explained. 

She froze up, nearly staying in her place. “You… want to send me out already?” Angela asked, a bit hesitant. 

“Well, yes. You can keep up with the troops. I don't see why we shouldn’t trial you.” Ana responded with a kind look to her face. “It’ll be a quick mission. Few hours at most. And if something was to go south, you not only have your own resources but at least two other medics to fall back on. You’ll be in good hands, Angela.” 

Still, Angela wasn’t convinced, even as she worked back to walk beside Ana. They passed through the double doors that would take them back inside, and Angela's grip tightened around her bottle. “An- Captain Amari. All due respect, I really don’t think I’m ready for that…!” 

Ana shook her head. “You’re ready, Angela. You just need to get your feet wet. It's like working in an emergency room, except you’re a _walking_ emergency room and you find the injured people.” Ana described it. 

Angela bit her lip, thinking of the process and how it would match up. Technically Ana wasn’t _wrong_, but the thought still terrified her. “Perfectly harmless, simple escort mission?” 

“Without a single scratch,” Ana assured her firmly. 

She sighed deeply and nodded, accepting the mission be if she liked it or not. Ana would send her on it regardless. “When do we ship out, Captain?” 

“Three hours from now. Long enough for you to get a meal in after your training” Ana quipped. “And long enough for us to find a support vest to fit that tiny frame of yours” 

“Very funny, Captain…” Angela said quietly, watching as her boss of sorts walked off, waving Angela goodbye and leaving her all but stranded in the middle of the blue hallway. She looked down, staring at the very faint reflection of herself in the linoleum before shaking her head and walking down another corridor. 

She had too much mental prep for this ‘little mission’. 

\--- --- --- 

It was a harsh ambush by forces unknown to Angela. Quick as shrapnel flew across the field and to her comrades, bullets flying, and bodies dropping. 

No amount of mental prep was going to prepare Angela for the afternoon she had. How, for a solid ten seconds, she watched bullets fly and blood splatter, before a shout of her name caught her attention and she was on her feet, imagining the field as her own emergency room. All the materials she needed were strapped to her, and each patient was quickly recovered somewhere safe. She barked orders at soldiers still standing, even at the other medics on her team. It felt like just another rush in the ER, another few surgeries she had to carry out, another life she could save.

Except everything wasn’t as it felt. Of the bodies that were given to her, she could only save a handful of them, as well as her other Medics. Bodies that were lost in the rubble, still under fire. 

Of the 19 injured bodies Angela was tasked to care for, only fourteen were put in any sort of condition that they could recover from. The other five had died under her hands, despite all of her efforts. 

Angela had kept herself composed. She did most of the time she was at the hospital, whenever she lost a patient. Kept to herself, put together, but not even there. 

Landing back at base hours after her initial take off, Angela spoke to no one. Not a superior asking for her resolution of the mission, not Ana who asked of how she _liked_ it. No one. She walked a solid straight line to the labs. No, she didn’t want to see _her_, but if there was any space Angela felt like she could be safe in, it was there. She could work, she could focus, and the human body wouldn’t come to her mind at all. 

She pulled off the helmet on the plane, and the vest was left in the hangar. All that remained now was her jacket that she pulled off, tying it around her waist as she pulled her ID card to gain access into the lab she shared. She paid no mind to the words that reached her ears in fuzzy haze. It wasn’t that she sat at her desk, cracking open her laptop, that she finally managed to tune back into the world around her. 

“-Jesus, you smell like _blood_ Ziegler,” O’Deorain said, crinkling her nose. Angela saw it, observed it, and felt her previously loose hands grow tense over her keyboard. “Where did you just come from?” She asked, despite the answer being obvious. 

Angela scooted back in her chair, looking at her hands that were still ever faintly stained with blood, as well as the pants she wore. She could see some blood on the tied sleeves of her jacket, and all the color drained from her face if there was any left to begin with. “... Doctor O’Deorain…” Angela said quietly. “I… need to focus on a project.” 

O’Deorain scoffed from her place. “I’d prefer you showered before you did anything else. You’re going to make this place smell like a morgue. Do you know what it takes to get human blood stench out of tile?” She kept going on and on. Angela found it in her to zone out again, just long enough to get a mere paragraph on her paper. 

_No preparation in the ER could have told me what I would see on a battlefield. It was as if the triage center was thrust into my arms and i was told to get down and work, even as bullets flew. _

_ Any solution needs to be quicker than the slight pace for aiding stitches. Needs to be used for stronger flesh than the tissues of body organs. An instantaneous reaction to heal wounds and save more lives-_

O’Deorain’s hand slammed down on her desk and she was pulled from her gaze. The look was as stone-faced as the rest of her expressions, but there was a tightness in her brow that Angela had somehow noticed. It was so subtle, but even as it was, her words were not. “Get out of my lab, and change your clothes, Ziegler. Before you make the whole place a biohazard.”

She didn’t know what snapped. What finally wriggled into her. But Angela broke down. 

Tears made their way from her eyes as she sat there, looking down to try and hide her shame. The other body near her backed away as the tears slowly gave way to gentle sobs that shook her chest. The suppression of emotion flooded her and that threshold was broken by O’Deorain. 

O’Deorain crossed her arms, Angela could barely see it out of the corner of her blurred eyes as she shook. When she departed, Angela barely reacted. She sobbed in her chair but didn’t move, not until the lights were brightened, and some sound played from the other end of the room. Angela's head snapped up in a start as she saw O’Deorain start a stereo, small and tucked into the corner, playing a tune that… wasn’t quite soothing, but it wasn’t silent. 

She sat straight up and wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hands, fighting back a sniffle. “... Music…?” Angela asked quietly. 

O’Deorain had sat back down at her desk when Angela had said something, and her words were merely shrugged off. “To drown your whining. Get a grip, Doctor Ziegler.” 

Angela said nothing this time as she stood, slamming her laptop shut. Her companion did not move a single inch as Angela made her way out of the lab. She thought she could get her thoughts straight, to organize herself before her emotions welled over. The last time she cried or felt like this… Well. It was not a good time. 

She made it back to her bunk and took the opportunity to strip herself of the clothes she so desperately needed a out of. Dirt and sweat clung to her even through the fabric, despite the numerous layers she had on. By the time she sad nearly naked in her sports bra and panties, she was teary-eyed again, seeing the faint stains across her clothes. The images of soldiers' healing and those left behind in soul on the battlefield made her heart clench. Her entire body ached. Not from the physical work spent, but the emotional effort put into the day. The toll put on her conscious as one phrase from her internship rocked her to the core now harder than ever. 

_You can’t save everyone_

But why not, had always been her response. Why not save everyone? Give everyone a second chance at life? She had been… it wasn’t fair. 

“**It’s not fair!**” Angela cried out to no one in particular, curling in on herself as her body shook again with sobs and upset. They were all innocent in her eyes. They didn’t deserve this. No one did. 

Eventually, after her body drained itself of every tear she seemed to have, Angela got up, not bothering with a shower. She didn’t need a trip to the communal showers and the chance to get herself worked up again in front of practical strangers. The more she was near each soldier the worse off she felt. 

Fitting herself into a simple tee-shirt and sweatpants, Angela let herself collapse into the sheets, squeezing her pillow for support of something to cling to. Anything… Anything to feel less alone while her body continued to expel grief in dry sobs until it just decided it couldn’t anymore. Hours after her return, Angela had fallen asleep to her own battered breaths. 

\--- --- --- 

The next conscious thought that Angela could remember, she was screaming. Screaming loud enough for the entire floor to be woken up, if it were possible. Memories and visions flashed in front of her eyes that she hadn’t seen in years, and she was struggling against invisible grips, drowning voices and what she presumed to be mechanical clicks and beeps. Everything was completely overwhelming her senses to the point where she hardly noticed her door open, the body that came through, and the door shut again. 

A soft voice ever so slowly eased her out. Got her to calm her voice and calm down, relax. To breathe. Just to simply _breathe_. Once she had that down, Angela opened her eyes, she didn’t even realize she still had them closed. But now that they were open, she immediately quieted down, looking to the face of Ana. 

“There’s a girl,” Ana spoke to her softly, just as if a mother would. “That’s it. Can you hear me now, Angela?” 

Slowly, unsurely, Angela nodded her head, squeezing the object, her pillow, tighter in her hands as she looked up at Ana with wide eyes. “It… Hurts” She fought to say something Ana would understand. “Everything hurts.” 

Ana nodded along. “What do you need, Angela? What can I do to help?” 

She shook her head rapidly. For the first time in her life, Angela really didn’t know. When she woke up screaming in the orphanages she never received help, only screams back. Now was a different place, a different time. She hadn’t seen the inside of that hospital look like that disaster in ages… “I don't know” She finally told Ana. “I don't know…” 

“Will holding you help?” Ana offered, opening up her arms. 

Angela didn’t take a second to hesitate before she launched herself into her captain’s arms, burying her face in her shoulder and letting out a choked sob. A few of them, actually. Her tears absolutely soaked Ana’s nightshirt, her wailing drowned out only by quiet hushes and soothing words spoken in a language Angela didn’t even understand. But that was fine. It all was fine. So long as Ana didn’t disappear or die beneath her hands, this whole situation was welcome. 

Over the course of several minutes, Angela calmed down enough that she was breathing, with small shakes overcoming her every now and then. She clung to Ana’s shirt with a white knuckle grip, not daring to let go even if her life had demanded her to. She was terrified all the comfort would go away if she did. Lucky, Ana didn’t seem too keen on sending her away just yet. Or at least, not out of her presence.

Ana did pull back, just slightly as she looked down at Angela. “Do you want to come with me for a little while? We can get you something to drink to help calm you down?” 

Angela hiccuped, but she nodded. She didn’t want to be stuck here, not in this small bunk, with so few reminders of home. It nearly felt cold. 

So, wrapped up in her top blanket and Ana’s arms, they made their way together out of Angela’s bunk, all the way down to Ana’s own a floor below. The walk felt so much longer than it actually was… and as they walked, she couldn’t help but notice other names that went to doors she passed. 

Notably, she remembered precisley where she saw Moira O’Deorain’s door, and kept it in mind for later. To avoid it, of course.

Once they were inside, Angela was settled onto Ana’s couch of her living space. It was more like a small apartment than a typical bunk. Angela could only guess that it came with her rank and the fact she had a child; she hadn’t forgotten about Fareeha, but she didn’t see her around base, which was probably why Ana wasn’t hesitant to bring her into her home to help calm her down. 

Ana left her shortly after, just to the kitchenette, only to start a pot of tea. The rustling noise was something for Angela to focus on as she pulled herself tighter under her own blanket they had dragged over. The dim of the living room helped her feel somewhat at ease, and Ana’s presence within her eyesight was barely, barely enough for her. It would do as she kept herself from going too far over the edge of tears again. As Ana prepared tea for them both, Angela found a voice. 

“How did you know I was awake?” Angela asked quietly. 

Ana paused for just a moment, then continued to move, grabbing some cups from a shelf. “I’d call it something of mother’s intution. I just knew.” 

Angela frowned, curling her legs tighter. “All due respect, Captain Amari, but I’m not-” 

“You aren’t a child. I know” Ana responded. “I haven’t thought a single moment since you arrived here that you were one. But you are a young adult, and you just went through an experience most young people your age don’t sit through in person like that. Even less that are doctors directly responsible for saving lives.” 

She didn’t question how Ana knew. She was second in command to Overwatch, she just was the head of all the Medical units. The report had to get to her somehow. Still, Angela’s shortcomings being presented to her again made a whole different feeling dig in her stomach. “You said it would be an easy mission…” Was all Angela had to offer herself. “I wasn’t prepared.” 

“I know.” Ana said softly, a kind tone. “I’m sorry, Angela. We really didn’t see that coming. I never imagined your first mission to be a bloodbath.” 

More rustling, Angela hadn’t realized she was staring at the floor to cope with how her body was trying to make her feel. She looked up to see Ana messing with tea leaves over the kettle. Angela tightened her grip and sat up. “I need time before the next mission.” SHe said, almost a little harder than intended. 

Ana nodded. “I’ll make sure the next is guaranteed to be calmer for you Ang-” 

“That’s not what I meant.” Angela cut in, despite the dread that sunk in at cutting off her boss. “I need time to work on nanites. Ones that are conditioned for sudden large scale injuries. What I had for organ tissue wouldn't cut it in that kind of fight.” 

There was no response, only heavy silence as Ana prepare the tea and into separate cups for them. She came over and set one on the coffee table in front of Angela as she took a seat to the side, a grin on her face unlike one Angela had seen before. Almost as if she was proud in a different way. A much better resolution than the yelling she expected.

“How much time do you need?” Ana asked her.

“A month.” Angela guessed, slowly reaching over and grabbing her tea cup. The warmth radiating from it already felt soothing as her body slowly calmed down. She no longer had the fear of Ana ripping into her, and the nightmares and visions had died out from her prominent memory. Now, it was all about the solution she had, seeing as Ana was interested. “Possibly not even that long.” 

Ana nodded firmly. “Granted. And, Angela” 

She looked up at her superior. “Yes?” 

“Don’t be afraid to talk back to Doctor O’Deorain. She's thirty-three, she can handle it.” Ana gave her a wink before taking a sip from her cup. 

For some reason, it brought the slightest tug to her lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly longer than the rest to make up for the shortcomings of the last two. As well as just a little dip into the relationship Ana and Angela grow as well. I've always seen Ana as someone who would be a surrogate figure when Angela really needed it and this is one of the times. Ana really does have Mom Senses and she's already done attached herself to Angela, so.. 
> 
> Also, asshole Moira anyone? Don't worry. That'll change over time. This isn't a slow burn for nothing. 
> 
> Comments and Suggestions always welcome.


	4. Devil's Glare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela gets deeper into the research of her nanites, and feels Moira's pressure weigh on her, if slightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi yes I have little control and I've just. hauled off and written this partially in bed. Woo! Enjoy

At the grace of Ana's kindness, Angela was allowed to skip on the morning training, if only to get an extra hour of sleep and a shower the morning after. No, Angela didn't get much sleep that night after her quite disturbing awakening, but the alone time was something she desperately needed be it she was asleep or not. Her hot shower finally washed away the lingering feeling of passes souls clinging to her skin, it was almost the most relieving thing she'd felt in her entire life… 

Bringing a mug of black coffee with her, Angela skipped the check into the Medical Bay, opting to go straight to work on the programing for her Nanites that very morning. The quicker she got this task done, the faster she could redeem herself in the field. The failure to save those lives dragged on her but also pushed her forward, almost like encouragement to keep herself in the air, despite rain or downwind. 

The moment she arrived at the lab she felt confident, almost superior from Ana’s pick-me-up from the night prior. It was either that, or her steadfast determination to find a solution to avoid an event such as the day before happening again. O’Deorain had just barely pressed her own ID to the door when Angela arrived, and she looked up inquisitively. “Have you left the tears back in the dorms, Doctor Ziegler?” The attitude was definitely not absent from her voice, even at this early hour. 

“Yes.” Angela responded quite promptly, gripping the straps of her bag tighter. It was interesting now that she knew just what time O’Deorain properly arrived at the labs, and filed it away for later… 

O’Deorain hummed her acknowledgement as the doors opened, allowing them both access. “I heard last night about the mission. I hadn’t even realized you’d been on it. Quite unfortunate.” 

It stung a little that it wasn’t an apology for her behavior, but an acknowledgement was something of progress towards their work relationship. She took it as a personal victory. “There were lives I could not save. In the field of medicine its something we all must confront at one time or another.” Angela said, nodding to herself even as she made her way to her own table. “But that will not stop me from trying to produce something to prevent such matters.” 

Angela looked up, just as it seemed O’Deorain had her eyes fixated on her. Even from across the room Angela could feel the intensity of the gaze. A glare, almost. 

“What are you on about?” 

She was glad to have been asked. 

“Well,” Angela opened her laptop, picking up her binder from her bag afterward. “You’ve read my paper, more of _tore it to shreds_ so to speak, You would know that the current version of my nanite solution expedites the healing of surgical incisions inside the body.” Angela pulled a fresh copy of her latest paper and thesis, still smiling as she felt the glare still watch her. “So, the solution would be to develop faster acting nanites that would be able to heal _torn_ flesh, from say a bullet wound or gash of a dull knife or shrapnel. If I can develop the nanites to react fast enough to save someone from bleeding out, it would prevent a large amount of battlefield casualties.” 

O’Deorain cleared her throat, but did little in response. “And how long do you think that’ll take you?” she asked, finally looking down at her own notes taken from experiments past. 

“A month, at most,” Angela responded curtly, pulling a vial from her bag as well this time. A soft golden liquid sat inside, her prized possession of nanites that she kept with her from Zürich. “Surely, I’ve already got the start. I just need to build on it.”

Now came the really interested gaze. However, still feeling as heavy as if it were still quite the glare. O’Deorain scanned the little vial, and she scoffed faintly. “I’d be impressed if you managed it at all, with how little you’ve actually gotten done.” O’Deorain said simply, folding her hands atop her desk. “This isn’t exactly a controlled environment. Say you do actually make more potent nanites to achieve what you would call life saving. How do you plan on testing them? You can’t just take something like this on the field and expect to be able to use it instantly.” she challenged, reclining back in her chair now, eyebrow raised at Angela, as if challenging her. 

Angela put her vial down and provided her own stern look. “You leave my testing to me, Doctor O’Deorain. I’ll burn that bridge when I get to it.” 

She didn’t really notice the confused half blink that followed her words, sitting down and opening a file on her laptop; her base file of her nanite programming. 

There was muttering from the other end of the room, and as Angela raised her eyes to challenge it, O’Deorain had looked away. 

That’ll keep her shut for a while, Angela figured. 

\--- --- --- 

The days rolled by as Angela focused as much time as she could on her nanites. Within two weeks, she didn’t have as far as a result as she wanted, but she had something. A topical solution that would heal the stitched skin, just as she had for organs in the body. In theory, it still needed bonded flesh to aid the healing process, something akin to topical Neosporin. But of course, much faster. 

No, at the present, Angela had no true way of testing her solution, but she kept a newly developed vial in her lab pocket at all times. Almost something of good luck, or a promise of what was to come. Regardless of the actual meaning, it definitely made her feel better to carry it around, a portable confidence boost. 

Today, she found herself hanging around the Medical Bay a lot longer than she intended. O’Deorain’s personal experiment for the day included too many glowing, bright and distracting substances. The solution was to take a break and work on healing others for a change. What did come to her surprise, however, was a patient had summoned her by name from her office. Angela had yet to be called by anyone; in fact, she wasn’t even aware that any of the soldiers on base had known her by name. She closed the window she had open on her desktop, just to tap her pocket and ensure her vial was present before walking out. 

To her surprise, the nurse who pulled her took her to a more private bed, and sitting on it was Commander Jack Morrison. Her heart thumped in her chest for half a second, before realizing the reason she had been called. The Commander had a gash in his forearm, almost looking as if it came from a run in with metal or something similar. So much for first impressions. 

“Doctor Ziegler.” He said, almost kindly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” That voice, definitely American. She almost wanted to groan; in her personal experience, American tourists were the worst to deal with. Lord only knows what an Amercian soldier to be like. 

“I must say, Commander..” Angela started off, pulling on a sterile pair of gloves and pulling his arm towards her. “This isn’t exactly how I imagined us meeting for the first time.” 

The Commander chuckled faintly, and he gave a small shrug with one arm. “I planned on having a meeting with you next week about your progress. But this seems as good of a time as any to see the other half of your skills.” 

“Please” Angela felt her face heat at the flattery, starting her simple work of suturing his wound. “You could get the same quality of care from any staff member here.” 

Another chuckle, more of a full laugh this time. "Whoever isn't intimidated by me is too old and detached to really care about bedside manner, Doctor Ziegler. It's good to see you're young and not of the general populous." Morrison explained. 

A slight blush crept to her cheeks at the compliment but Angela merely nodded otherwise. "Unfortunately, Doctor O'Deorain has done all the intimidation for you…" Angela slowed as she picked up the suture kit to sew up Morrison's wound, and looked at him with a bit of intrigue in her eyes. 

He matched her gaze and even cocked an eyebrow up at her. "Something wrong?" 

"No, just the opposite actually," Angela was quick to defend as she slowly started her sutures. "Perhaps you'd be willing to let me apply something to the stitches after I've given them?" 

Morrison seemed to think about it for a few seconds before nodding to her, a confident expression dinning his face. "Anything you need to do, Doc." He responded. 

A flood of confidence and adrenaline rushed through her system as she quickly (and carefully) finished up the stitches on his arm. They were only slightly looser than the typical stitch work, but for Angela's sake they needed to be. She pulled the vial from her pocket, looking between it and Morrison's arm. It seemed he had the same intrigued look that she did, albeit more confused. She popped the top of the vial off easily, and gently pulled Morrison's forearm to a more level standard as she tipped the vial carefully. The solution spilled out of its container and over Morrison's wound. Only a few millimeters of it was dropped before Angela corked it back up and gently smoothed it over his skin. The softest of glows came from his skin as the Nanites were worked in, and they both watched the wound appear… significantly less damaged after a few moments. Still in need of stitches to close up, but definitely closer to only needing them for the day versus the week. 

Angela was impressed with her work, grinning as she tucked the vial back into her pocket. 

Morrison on the other hand, looked at it intrigued. “Are these the Nanites Captain Amari was telling me about?” 

“Ja,” Angela responded automatically, before feeling her face flush slightly. “Yes. It’s still only a slight work in progress, but it is a step in the direction I want to be at very soon for field use, Commander.” She ever so conveniently left out the part where this batch _had not_ been tested yet. “How does it feel?”

He continued to examine his arm, slowly his face appearing more and more impressed before he looked at Angela with full attention yet again. “Warm. Like there's a warm compress right where the wound is, it's almost soothing. Will this final product need sutures on the field?” Morrison asked. 

She shook her head quickly. “No, Sir. They will not. The hope is for them to be able to heal wounds before the wounded can bleed out.” Angela explained. “Hopefully, to prevent less casualties.” 

He nodded along to her explanation, and hopped off the exam table after she finished. “I hope to see a more finalized version in the weeks to come, Doctor.” Morrison said. “Thanks for the patch up. Have a good day.” 

“You too.” Angela said softly as he departed. The moment he was out of her sight, she had a grin plastered on her face like a giddy fool. A slight squeal even came from her as she pulled the vial from her pocket yet again. 

“**You work! You really do work!**” For the first time since being there, Angela was excessively glad no one could understand her German babbling as she fawned over her small vial. Quickly gathering her barings, she moved from the private area back to her office and swapping her vial for a thumb drive. 

Quickly uploading a file from her laptop, Angela’s fingers flew across the board, the smile never leaving her face as she documented the results of her impromptu test. 

_The Nanite batch E-A1 is a success in healing external wounds at an accelerated pace. Subject who demonstrated the results for me felt no pain, or if he did, he did not express it. Subject also reported a warmth over the area of application, probably from the rate at which the wound was being repaired and cells were being woven together to close the wound…_

It was a very far reach for her progress, that was for sure. Now that she knew these nanites did not cause conscious pain, it was enough for her to spur on a new program. Hopefully, that would be ready in less than two weeks. 

Just to spite Moira O’Deorain. 

\--- ---

“And _why_ are you giving me this garble to read, Doctor Ziegler?” 

Only a mere day and few hours after Angela had finalized her report on her encounter with Morisson earlier in the day, Angela had handed Moira a completely fleshed out, two page report on the process of development that the Nanites went through, as well as the process of healing that the Commander had just finished. The nanites had completely healed the wound, and Angela had to remove the stitches from scarring his arm. “To show you just how much I mean business, Doctor O’Deorain.” Angela responded quite promptly. “You won’t listen to my words, but if your annotations say anything, you’ll read them.” 

O’Deorain took Angela’s paper from her hands, flipping over the notes and glancing over the words, seemingly invested. For a moment she scanned the paper, and Angela felt that gaze intensify as she went along. It was… intimidating and all so interesting all at once, watching those eyes move. If she was being honest with herself, this was the first time she really even noticed her adversary having different colored eyes. 

When O’Deorain’s eyes raised from the paper, Angela felt chills down her spine. “You’ve… You’re actually making headway on your project.” Was all she said. 

Angela pulled her hands behind her back, smiling politely. “Impressed?” 

“No,” She responded, putting the paper down on her desk. “You haven’t actually met your goal. Only taken steps to it. Even if I was impressed, do you really think I’d grant you such instant gratification by telling you upon demand?” 

“Well… No” Angela responded, only the slightest bit dampened on the inside. 

O’Deorain cleared her throat and tucked the paper away shortly after. “I’d think you’d guess by now, I don’t play the nice game, Doctor Ziegler. If you want to be babied, go back to Captain Amari.” She folded her hands over her desk, looking at Angela, dead in the eyes. The first time that Angela could recall she’s done so. “Unless you have some other aim in demanding such niceness from me.” 

Angela only thought about it for about two beats before her own lips curled up, a mischievous look for someone so nice. “To see if you had any form of a heart, Doctor.” She nodded, turning heel and making her way towards her own desk. 

She heard the faintest sound of a rather forced exhale, and felt her smile even a little harder. Ana had a good idea when she gave Angela express permission to ‘talk back’. Two could play at the game of harsh words to the face. 

For a while, Angela sat in near silence, eventually forgetting that O’Deorain was even there to begin with. For hours, she was so self absorbed in her programming, tweaking the fine code to it and taking notes off to the side of physical and chemical equations that had to come up. There was a lot more chemistry in human biology than she had previously determined, but that was part of what made the development of her Nanites so challenging and enjoyable. 

By the time she had even noticed any change or passage of time, she had been curled up in her chair, cross legged, eyes barely hurting from the screen. She registered the outside world only by O’Deorain approaching, and placing something directly on her keyboard. Her paper. 

Angela sat up, picking it up and examining the scrawl in purple ink. Once again, it was in Gaelic. Something about this pinched a nerve. “I thought you weren’t interested, Doctor O’Deorain.” Angela snipped. 

“I said I wasn't impressed.” O’Deorain corrected her. “I never said I wasn't interested. Me being interested is a good thing, Doctor Ziegler. Perhaps you’ll find good things in your future if you keep my interest.” 

She thought on it for a moment or two, and cocked an eyebrow up at O’Deorain, a challenge. “And what comes in it if I do get your interest? You can’t just say things _might_ come and not follow.” She said. 

A hum, as well as a glowering from piercing eyes. “I’ll treat you to a drink, out of my personal collection.” O’Deorain decided on. 

“I don’t drink, Doctor O’Deorain.” Angela responded with. “... But any gesture from you I’ll take.” 

She merely shrugged, turning heel and intending to go back to her own desk. “It’s entirely your choice. It’s my offer. Take it or leave it, if you can get to it in the first place.” O’Deorain said simply before finally leaving to her side. 

Angela took the moment to really look at the paper, finding where O’Deorain had scanned and marked and annotated. She figured she could at least make out part of the words, if the damn writing wasn’t literal scratch. It looked as if a fifth grader could have written it. “Actual pain…” Angela mumbled under her breath as she relaxed completely in her chair, flipping through her notes and trying to find exactly what O’Deorain had nitpicked. She found that with her previous paper, it helped to try and find the flaws that others found. Except… it was exceedingly hard to do that when she couldn’t understand the problems in the notes to begin with. 

She delivered a cold glare to the other end of the room, O’Deorain now absent from her desk, and another door being slightly open. “Teufel…” She muttered under her breath. 

Really, the woman was something akin to a devil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please have enjoyed this chapter I worked hard over like 3 different mental states to do it. That being fully awake, awake after work, and barely awake before work. 
> 
> Morrison is just. he exists. I don't have coherent words for him right now but he *exists*. 
> 
> Comments and Suggestions are always welcome you guys and thanks for reading as always <3


	5. The Devil's Den

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela Finalizes her batch of nanites, and immediately takes them with her on a spur of the moment mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not being as quick with this one! I had one hell of a Sunday. Hopefully, this makes up for it :)

Angela was grateful that Ana had instilled the enlightening secret, that no one cared if Overwatch members used the kitchen area at night. The middle of the night, to be more precise. 

Although her research had progressed further into being able to readily help soldiers better on the battlefield, Angela couldn’t stop what trying to sleep had brought her. Nightmares of both past and present had consumed her, and tonight was no different. She readied a pot for tea as she felt the night chill her. Bare foot on a tile floor, what a genius idea… Angela was intelligent but sometimes even common mistakes still escaped her. 

She set the pot to boil and sat on the counter, watching it almost intently as the idle noise of refrigeration cabinets filled the rest of the room, as well as the slightest hiss of the gas keeping the flame alight. All ample noises, enough to keep her mind distracted off the echoes of her dreams. Drumming her fingers on the countertop she waited, waited for the telltale sign the kettle was ready, the hissing. Although, she felt as if time hardly moved, despite watching the steam rise and the flames flicker. It was an eerie similar feeling from being a child, and she hated it. The only change from her terrors as a child and those now, was there was no caretaker begrudgingly telling her to be quiet, or other children crying around her. Just Angela, the idle noises in the kitchen, and her own resolve to cease her crying. 

Finally, the kettle whistled for her attention, and Angela finished off the preparation of four-in-the-morning tea. She gave the package of tea she prepared a bit of a glare, the brand just not to her liking, but there was no chance of getting any of her preferred brand shipped over. Anything Swiss was hard to come by in this damn place… 

Another sit to the counter, crossing her legs this time, she took in the warmth of the cup in her hands but did little else with it. Even just having the source of warmth was enough of a soothing feeling, for the moment. Her nightmare had been a vivid retelling of the battle from barely three weeks ago, and oddly enough she couldn’t get the sickening feeling of blood off her hands since she woke up, even if she washed them in the sink before she prepped her tea. This was the fourth time she’d woken up like that since her research for more active nanites started, and she hated the sticky feeling. 

But following all of this, she usually departed for the lab shortly after. 

A few sips of tea to calm her nerves, and she was back up on her feet, bare padding on the floor as she exited the kitchen, once again thankful for the tip off. 

The hallways were calm at this time of night. No soldiers rushing to get anywhere, no older officials planning and organizing a meeting, and furthermore the blue looked lovely with the lights imbedded in the baseboards. Bright enough to illuminate the path, but not so to disrupt the illusion of passing time. By now she had memorized the path to get to the lab, and was thankful it was habit to keep ID badges on at all times. Putting it to the scanner, the doors slid open to an unfamiliar sight… 

Pieces of O’Deorain’s latest ‘experiment’ were scattered around the lab, including blueprints and plans taped up to one of the white boards, and of course, a table brought in that was filled with cages of rats. Angela felt herself shiver at the sight. She never liked the idea of Animal testing for scientific progress, even moderately disgusted when Moira had brought them in the night before. She had buried her head in her notes to avoid the source of squeaks and jostling cages. 

Her notes and equipment were pleasantly left untouched, and her own machine set up on her table. A small tank about the size of a five gallon water cooler was filled to the brim with Nanites, completely still and dormant, ‘turned off’ as Angela would describe them. Her laptop was left as well, open and idle as a program ran behind the screensaver, as well as connected to the nanite containment via USB. Tapping the trackpad, the screen came alight with data and Angela felt her very soul rise up from the depth of her gut. 

** _Program Format 100%  
Upload?_ **

Perfect. 

\--- --- --- 

Angela sat with her computer, watching the process as she always did, even as it took hours. Her laptop ran heavy as it worked, implementing the code she had spent the last three weeks on into the nanites inside the tank. The couple hours progressed and she was so engrossed, she didn’t even bother checking her clock. At a tight 06:00, the doors to the lab opened up, finally breaking Angela’s eye contact with her now mildly alight batch of nanites. 

O’Deorain looked prim and proper as she would any other time, and her eyebrow quirked up at the sight of Angela at her computer. “Ziegler? Shouldn’t you still be asleep?” 

“I could say the same for you.” Once Angela had noticed who came through the door, she had her eyes fixated on her tank again. “... It isn’t eight-thirty yet, is it?” 

“No.” O’Deorain’s voice reached her ears. “It’s six. I’ve come to check on the rats. What are you doing here this early?” 

Angela hummed as she sipped at (now absolutely freezing) tea. “... My program finished. I’m implementing it to my nanites now.” 

That seemed to catch O’Deorain’s attention. Angela could tell through the silence, and the gaze was always heavy when she was silent. “In your pajamas?” 

Angela didn’t answer that. She just kept looking, observing. The upload bar on her computer was half way through, and she was too eager to see this through till the end. Overall, the process was entirely fascinating. As the bar filled up, the container would slowly glow and alight, appearing as the solution she would have in her vials, what she’d use in surgery and what she had used on Morrison only a week ago. It was a miracle that she even finished this batch this shortly. There was only one problem with the progress, however, and it hung over her as she observed O’Deorain taking care of her rodents. 

There was no feasible way to test this _without_ using animals. 

THe simple fact of that alone bothered her more than anything, and there was no sense in testing it on another living being again. Yes, she put a dose on morrison, but that was something small. Something she could repair had something gone wrong and she knew she could repair it. This was meant for something grander, and she wasn’t sure how she was going to replicate the necessary wounds to test without animals. Even then, it was _cruel_. She couldn’t. 

However she allowed O’Deorain her fun, and they didn’t seem to be in pain. Whatever tests she was running, it wasn’t causing harm. Not now.

Now with the noises of rats squeaking in accordance to O’Deorains attention, the wait for the newest batch of nanites to be complete seemed to run faster. She was even dozing off, watching the alluring glow brighten throughout the container… An odd feeling that she was no stranger to. AS her laptop dinged its completion her eyes lit up in pride, finally shifting from her stiff position. 

“**Finally!**” She exclaimed, jumping up from her spot. Angela darted over to one side of the room, grabbing for vials with agrin. 

“Judging from your tone, I’m going to assume that wasn’t a swear or a slur you’ve just said.” O’Deorain commented off from the side. She wasn’t looking, but Angela assumed she was still focused on her rats. 

Quickly coming back to her desk, Angela shook her head on the off chance O’Deorain was in fact looking at her. “Nein. My nantites are finished…!” 

She looked up, just in time for O’Deorain’s gaze to be on hers. Eyes perfectly locked. Angela only felt smug confidence flood her system. “You’ve actually finished.” It wasn’t a question. “Somehow I expected the programing to upload slower.” 

“In your bitter dreams.” Angela quiped, tearing her gaze away if only to latch it to her tank instead. She started filling up a few vials with the new, more potent batch of Nanites, the tubes warming in her grasp with each one that she filled. The most advanced healing technology was in her hands, it was almost like her own special brand of life in a bottle. There was nothing that would do with wiping the smile off her face. Not any condescending comment from O’Deorain, nothing. 

The lab door opened for the second time that morning, and this time it was at 09:00, Angela double checked the clock on her computer for it. O’Deorain wasn’t leaving, in fact, Ana was walking in. Near perfect timing. 

“Doctor Ziegler, Doctor O’Deorain” She greeted promptly, shoulders squared in what Angela had deemed her ‘business stance.’ “How are you both this morning?” 

O’Deorain let an audible gruff out. “Just grand. I’m worried of Ziegler having an aneurysm over there, however.” 

Ana’s brow arched up. “Oh? And why is this?” 

Despite being in her pajamas, Angela stood proudly, the vials in her hands filled completely with the nanite solution she had created. “This! Nanite batch E-A2, it should do well for healing severe wounds in battle.” She proudly proclaimed, still grinning wide. 

Ana walked over, carefully examining Angela’s set up and even looking into the vials, observing the golden glow that came from them. Thankfully, she didn’t seem bothered of Angela’s lack of appropriate clothing in the lab. “Outstanding…” Ana mused. “Perhaps you could put them to use today.” 

“Pardon?” Angela dropped her hands, suddenly her body running cold. “I’ve just prepared it, they haven’t been tested yet.” 

She was waved off. “There’s a small mission that needs to be carried out. Scout an area, ensure there's no threat. It’ll just be a small squad of five, but I thought letting you go with them would be an excellent ‘quick-to-prepare’ practice moment. They take off in thirty minutes, are you willing to go with them, Doctor Ziegler?” Ana asked. 

Her entire body ran cold, as if someone had just dunked her in ice water. She squeezed her test tubes tightly, but careful to not let them shatter in her hands. “I… I don’t know.” Angela said softly. “... Just a scouting mission?” 

“Just a scouting mission.” Ana assured. 

Angela examined the vials in her hands, studying the minor details she could find in the golden solution. A different kind of chill came over her, and she raised her head to lock eyes with O’Deorain again, an odd expression, twisted interest filled her gaze. It was almost as if she wanted her to say no. Looking back to Ana, she nodded. “I’ll be ready.” 

Ana clasped her hands together with a wide smile. “Perfect. I’ll see you in the docking bay in thirty minutes. Good day to you, Doctor O’Deorain.” And just as swiftly as she arrived, Ana was gone.

All the excitement that Angela had felt was gone, extinguished by the dread of another mission. But, Ana had made a good point. She needed the experience be it she was going to heal soldiers or not. She kept the three vials she had filled in her hands, picking up her ID to go along with it. O’Deorain’s gaze weighed heavily on her back as she left the lab to prepare. “Good luck being their _guardian angel_.” The words were not said with encouragement. 

\--- --- --- 

This was the third time Angela had been in the docking bay, and she hated it. Every bit of the place was exactly what she hated from history books and images of war… Soldiers lined up at the ready to load into ships fitted with offensive weaponry and… it was dreadful. She tried not to think about it as she squeezed the straps of her pack, walking into the drop ship that would take her and the small squad of five to where they intended to fly for their ‘observational’ trip. 

One of the soldiers, Angela had taken care of a time or two in the Medical Bay, was peak overconfidence, but he was the lead for their mission. She couldn’t be arsed to remember his first name, but his last was Rizzo. Italian. He had been trying to flirt with her on his first visit to the Medical Bay, to which she instantly tuned out. She wasn’t here to fraternize, but he didn’t seem to take the hint, lighting up as he saw Angela get on the drop ship. 

“Ah, The beauty of the Medical Bay,” He smiled in her direction and she tried not to roll her eyes. “You’ll be joining us for this mission, yes?” 

“It seems I will.” Angela responded, promptly taking her seat and retiring her pack to the side. 

Rizzo approached, sitting next to her and seeming quite… relaxed. It made her uncomfortable. “Tell me, do you have a boyfriend back in Switzerland?” He asked her all too casually. “Because If not, I’d happily take that occupation.” 

Angela squeezed her entire body closer in on itself. “There’s no time for relationships when there’s missions to accomplish, Lieutenant Rizzo.” She responded as politely as she could. 

He laughed a little, collapsing a bit in his seat. “Such hard to get. Blonde beauties are always like that…” he made the comment, more to himself than Angela as the shuttle doors closed. 

“Shut up, Rizzo.” Another female, Angela almost sighed in relief. She hadn’t tended this blonde in the Medical Bay, so unfortunately she didn’t know her name, but she moved her seat to be right next to Angela, almost in some kind of support. “You’re going to scare her off before we even get there.” 

Rizzo scoffed, rolling his eyes, and the next thing he said was something in Italian. Something Angela barely comprehended but couldn’t translate. She hadn’t exactly studied italian that much in her studies. She responded back to him, almost in a bitter shout, that finally got him to up and leave Angela alone. For once, She was glad to have not understood someone. Unlike another person in her life… 

The flight was quick, although Angela wished she could have distracted herself any other way. The tension in the air was obvious, and the gaze she felt from Rizzo occasionally looking at her was sickening. She never quite liked the feeling of strangers staring over her quite like he did. Sometimes… some people made her worry for her bodily safety, and he was one of those people. At least, at face value he was. To keep her patience, she kept her focus on how quick this scouting mission would be. It should be in and out, Ana had said. The three other soldiers on their task force were looking over a map and understanding the route they were taking, Rizzo was lounging comfortably beside them, and of course the woman was still next to her, glaring at Rizzo in attempt to keep him banished away from Angela’s side. She… focused on Ana’s words and kept her hands on her vest, feeling where she had put her vials. She shouldn’t have brought them, she knew she shouldn’t have. But Angela knew they were good luck, in some twisted way. 

Once the dropship touched down the group of five lined up with Rizzo at the front. Angela took the back, as she opted to pull behind. That way, not only did she have an eye on her entire team, but Rizzo was as far away from her as possible. The whole squad did a brief count off before departing from the dropship, making their way quickly and quietly of the area. Angela had observed it as a seemingly abandoned town; reportedly there had been Talon activity, supposedly messing with the downed omnics of the area. 

She recognized some of the structures and signs, showing they were somewhere off the side of Spain. It was a bit damning to think of the damage that occurred here during the omnic crisis… And now it was suspected to be a Talon oversight. Wonderful, really. 

Losing herself in the aged and destroyed architecture and the greenery growing over damaged places, Angela thought that it was almost a tranquil walk. Occasionally, the woman who had ‘rescued’ her from Rizzo’s flirtatious onslaught looked back at her with a soft smile, almost making sure she was alright. Every single time, Angela was flattered and had offered a smile in return. It was nice to know that even in a military environment there was some kind of comfort and soliday. 

Their walk lasted nearly three hours. Every single one of them was exhausted, of course, ANgela seemed to be the most downed by the activity. Perhaps what Ana meant by her needing the ‘practice’ was building endurance to match with any soldiers she paired with. A twisted way to make her walk all day. 

She paused, letting the group go ahead as the dropship was in sight. All she wanted to do was take in a little more of the scenery before they left. After a few hours, the place just seemed to grow on her. It was a little discerning when she heard something, almost like a metallic clink, not too far away from the direction they had come from. Angela turned behind her, looking around for what it could have been.

The soldiers yelled, called out even, suddenly running back towards her direction. She turned to face them, worry creasing over her features as Rizzo’s voice was one that overpowered them all. 

“Doctor Ziegler! Get down!” 

\--- --- --- 

The unconsciousness barely lasted a minute. 

Angela’s eyes were unfocused, but her memory served her a different vision than the one she placed now. Smoke was in the air, she could tell that right away. It was thick and billowing, the source wasn’t far from her position. 

The next thing she could tell was ringing. Loud, echoing ringing in her ears almost like a flatline. That was what concerned her the most as she tried to move, tried to get herself together. Her vision slowly cleared up but her hearing did not, and she jumped when she saw Rizzo’s face over her own, mouth moving but no words connecting to her. 

_What happened to me…?_

Something felt… cold. Not cold. But different. Definitely as it should not have been there. Or maybe something was supposed to be there, and it wasn’t anymore? The feeling was heavily on her left side. She barely reached a hand over to touch it out of her curiosity, and pull it to her sight. 

Red. 

All Angela saw was red. 

Slowly, sounds came back to her as shock and adrenaline filled her entire body. Her heart hammered in her chest as she finally heard words, but couldn’t understand them. English was lost on her at the moment. 

_I’m the only medic…!_

Rizzo was still yelling in her direction, something about staying awake… Angela wasn’t focused on that. No. The focus was on the pockets of her vest. She fumbled, harder now that her left hand was covered in _her_ blood. Something. Anything that would keep her safe until she got back to base and let other doctors work. She needed something…! 

_Nanites!_

Angela fumbled just enough to pull two of her vials out, leaving the third half hanging out. She fumbled with the caps before they came off in shaky hands, and she immediately tried dispensing them over her side. She could barely feel it externally anymore, and she felt more and more tired. She could still hear Rizzo and the female soldier talking to her. Words vaguely came in even as she lost her own control, begging her to stay awake until they got back to base. Begging her to hang on. The last thing she remembered was the vague motion of being moved and dropping empty vials to the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be it that it was expected or not, this is the very start to a very slippery slope. Hence the title. If we know what Moira does to herself later on, then perhaps we can take some context clues. 
> 
> Anyway, hopefully, you guys enjoyed! And yes, I'll be using Rizzo again in the future, which is why I gave him a name. His rank comes from the fact that Overwatch ranks are a disaster and if Reinhardt is/was a Lieutenant then that's the rank to lead a small brigade. That's what he is. 
> 
> Thank you guys so much and as always comments and Suggestions are welcome.


	6. Golden Flecks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela awakes after her mission, and is quick to take notes on her new condition...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Sorry for the slow update, and perhaps how slow this chapter might move. I really wanted to have the focus on what happened. It's important to Angela, and it's a vital point in the story.
> 
> Enjoy!

The second time Angela awoke, it was more sudden, and she was damn near in a panic. Her heart hammered in her chest as she opened her eyes, practically gasping for air she thought she hadn’t been getting and grasping at her side.

It took her a few long seconds for her to realize she wasn’t out in the field, but in fact in one of the personal patient rooms, reserved for soldiers with severe injuries or healing from surgeries. The heart monitor on the side did little to assure her that she was actually fine, but it did tell her she was alive. And she was _safe_.

Carefully, Angela moved around, pulling off the blankets and revealing the rest of her body in a gown, figures. She moved around the cloth to reveal the side of her abdomen, bandaged up and packed even. Medically, she told herself to keep the bandage on, that there could be consequences in taking the dressings off. 

Scientifically, she remembered what she did to herself, and she needed to know the results of applying her nanites in the way she did.

Angela peeled off the medical grade tape, pulling the various pieces of her patching up appart to look at her injury (which, she still wasn’t sure how she got). The sight was… astounding. The intact skin that had not been blown apart or damaged was red and mildly inflamed, and barely sensitive to the touch. But along the lines of where it was torn open, it looked as if it should have been a scar, but with a near glittery overlay. It was as if someone had decided to put golden body glitter over her injury, which if not for the color of her nanites themselves, she would have definitely believed that as the case. 

She ran her fingers over the fresh skin, the oddly formed bond between skin by her nanites… despite the damage that was done and the horror she felt at her life nearly ending, she couldn’t help but feel some odd sense of pride blossom. 

Her nanites _worked_. Provided she had the stash, she could save any man’s life on the field. 

The confidence quickly dwindled down as she replaced her bandage. Slowly she felt dread encompass her entire body. She could save anyone’s life, and she had just saved her own, only on a prayer that her medical science worked. And it did. It was just… the brush with death that had shaken her. 

There wasn’t even a knock, but the door did open. Angela’s head snapped to it and felt her soul leave her body. It wasn’t any medical tech, or even Ana. 

It was O’Deorain. 

Her presence made the room’s atmosphere shift, and at the realization that Angela was awake, she froze in her tracks. “... I see your mission went well.” 

Angela turned her head away as she curled up in her bed. “Save it.” She mumbled. “You can mock me all you want when I’m back in the lab.” For some reason, she felt the need to be hostile towards her. 

A small hum came her way. “I have a feeling that won't take you too long, if whatever drag those damn foot soldiers and interns keep saying are true.” O’Deorain said simply, shutting the door behind her and stepping forward. 

“You don't hear rumors.” Angela frowned. “You rarely leave the lab during normal operating hours, and I don’t even know where you go when you do leave.” 

She seemed to scoff as she stood at the foot of Angela’s bed. “Yes, well it’s hard to ignore them when they’re constantly running by my lab with gifts for _you_, or handing them to me personally to pass on as I'm getting coffee, you know.” 

That piqued her interest some as she looked up. “Me?” 

“Yes.” O’Deorain said. “I was kind enough to bring some of the tokens, particularly the ones your squad has left you.” 

Curiously, Angela reached out at some of the ‘get well’ cards that O’Deorain had handed her. Why they didn’t just deliver them to her room was beyond her, but it was touching that they left them on the lab door. Even more so the fact that O’Deorain had delivered them… She stared up at her intensely, almost waiting for something else to happen. For her to say something, anything. All she got was a stare back. 

“Do I have something on my face, Ziegler?” 

She was careful before answering, reclining into the pillows with all of her cards. “Nein. It was nothing.” 

O’Deorain nodded. “I’ll see you in the lab then, Ziegler.” With her errand complete, it seemed she was satisfied and departed without much of a word. 

Angela let out a sigh she didn’t even realize she was holding in, glancing down at all the cards in her hands. It was quite a surprise to see the love from the members of the base… Including one from Ana herself, clear from the signature of her name and the praise to her nanites. It seemed Ana was the only one who had an idea of what she did to herself to save her own life. 

Another card that caught her attention was the card that had multiple signatures on it, including Rizzo. To her surprise, he was actually apologetic in his note on the card, which amused her more than the attempts to flirt. 

The last card in the stack was completely bland, and more of a note on cardstock. Neat cursive in black letters… And no signature at the end. She analyzed that card more than any other, reading into it. The note was simple enough, Praising her for her quick thinking and a swift wish to get well soon. She just couldn’t pinpoint who had written it. Perhaps an extra private note from the female soldier? Or perhaps one from Morrison… But it looked too neat writing, even for him. 

She put it on top of the stack and left them to the side. She’d deliberate it more later, for now… She really needed a closer look at that fresh skin on her body.

\--- --- ---

Angela got herself out of her care unit only a few hours later, and now she was in her room shirtless examining the skin she had nearly torn apart on the field in the body mirror attached to the inside of her wardrobe. It went around her side and was jagged as could be, the wound looked as if something had torn through her side to open it, but was thin enough of a gash that her nanites were able to pull it together completely. The inflammation and redness from before had gone down some, and she was thankful for that fact. Ever so interesting still was the gold. The gold that came from the scar looked mesmerizing… perhaps the remnants of the nanites on her skin? 

Every few moments or so she was scribbling down medical notes in German on her desk, before pulling her eyes to look more. For the perfectly accurate information on it, she needed to talk to Ana. Or at the very least, Rizzo, as much as she hated to admit it. He would know, picture perfect, Iíhow it all happened and just what injured her to that degree. After all he did tell her to get down. She did remember that. 

Once she seemed her notes complete, Angela dressed herself in more proper attire for her lab… a nice blouse and at least a knee length skirt. Not exactly lab safe but it wasn't like she was going in there to run test experiments. All she needed was to add notes to her laptop and… to perhaps fill up more vials of her Nanites for field use, now that she knew they could do the job she needed. She carried her papers back towards the lap with her, close to her chest as she moved. For some reason, they felt taboo under her fingers. Something dirty, sinful. Wrong. As far as she was concerned, it technically _was._

But of course, she would have died without the actions she had taken. 

Pressing her ID to the scanner, Angela opened the doors to the lab, just to find O'Deorain missing. An odd sight but not necessarily uncommon. Lately she had been slipping from the lab more frequently, but for what purpose, Angela couldn't pin point. She takes her desk and gets her laptop off her screensaver, just to find two notifications in her email and the program for her Nanites sitting idle. The tank is still glowing a soft golden color, and Angela couldn't stop the brief smile that tugs at her lips. It's like a dream coming true, in some twisted way. 

Opening a fresh file, Angela momentarily disregards her emails to get a start on her report. The quicker she gets it done the faster she can hand it to Ana, and for a time feel relieved to have made substantial progress. It had barely been two months since she arrived, but that was hardly the point. Progress was progress, and in a place like Overwatch, Angela had figured, more results meant longer stays, and more progress to be made. 

_As an Emergency solution, the batch E-A2 are successful at a quick patching of severe wounds. The reaction was probably slower than intended, but the result was the same. The wounds Patient X had sustained were quickly healed, and the remains of the healing process seemed to be a slight golden fleck to the scarring. Possibly remnants of the Nanites quickly fusing the skin together. A skin sample needs to be taken for further analysis to ensure that is truly the case…_

She had lost herself in her report, curling up in her chair while she typed away. It was almost soothing, hearing the sound of the rats and her fingers swiftly going away at the keyboard. It reminded her faintly of her small lab room back in Zürich, outside presenting small buzzes of other nurses and doctors trying their best to find solutions for their patients. It almost felt the same, almost felt like home. Angela could have lost herself for hours like this. If not for the door sliding open, breaking her thoughts and making her pause. She looked up just to see O'Deorain, prominent as ever, towering with her hands behind her back down, as she always arrived in. She seemed to glance over, the emotion on her face practically unreadable. Damn her vacant expression. 

"Doctor Ziegler." She said, almost respectfully. "I see you're already proving to be a difficult patient." 

She shook her head, sitting back in her chair properly. "I'm fully healed. No strain." 

For the first time, Angela noticed a fully distinct change in O'Deorain's expression. Something of inate curiosity. "Oh?" Was all she had said. Of course, everyone told O'Deorain where Angela was, but not how she got hurt or what she had used to save her life. Or maybe they had, and she just didn't believe them. 

So, Angela decided to do it for them, straight from the horse's mouth if you will. "Our scouting mission was ambushed, I suppose. I used my Nanites out in the field because there was no other medic." Angela explained, carefully watching O'Deorains face. Her expression and her body language. From afar, it's always hard to nitpick. But with her being closer, if was easier to see the twitch of her brow, how her jaw flexed. And Lord, how those eyes scanned her intently, as if she was just some science piece. For some reason, a minor moment, Angela felt her heart in her throat. 

"May I see? Your injury, I mean." The question is asked with such poignant curiosity that Angela almost worries this isn't the O'Deorain she knows. But she's a scientist, a geneticist. Working on the basis of cell regeneration. Of course this would interest her. 

Without being asked twice, Angela stands from her chair to walk over to a more open, well lit spot. She pulled off her lab coat before gently tugging her blouse up, displaying her freshly healed wound to O'Deorain. 

She's never seen those mismatched eyes light up so brightly, even if the change was so subtle a normal person would miss it. At first, she's careful, crouching down to get a better view (O'Deorain is, of course, far taller than her). With a touch Angela never thought she was capable of, O'Deorain's fingers brushed across her newly bonded flesh. Slightly calloused, but delicate fingers of a scientist. It seemed for a moment she tried brushing away the golden fleck at the scars, but she couldn't. The sheer interest in her face as she examined it made Angela's face flush. That, and being so close, suddenly the small absences she had been taking were answered with one distinct smell. Nicotine. She almost scrunched her nose, almost found it enough to pull away, but other words disrupted her.

"Truly fascinating. You've tried getting this gold off?" O'Deorain asked her, fingers still gently edging the very parameters of her flesh. 

Angela shook her head, trying to pull herself out of the moment. To ignore the scent filling her nose.l. "I… I theorize it's just my Nanites, keeping the skin bonded." She explained. "That perhaps when the whole process of healing is done with, it'll subside." 

Slowly, O'Deorain stood, eventually returning to her natural state of tall prominancy, the kind of look that tells everyone her feigned superiority. For once, Angela doesn't find it annoying, but even mildly admirable. 

"I must say… your work actually is impressive." She cleared her throat just then, gesturing with her hand now. "Using your own, untested science to save your life on a whim. If you were anyone else, I wouldn't be surprised. But you… that in it's own is more impressive than your actual medical achievement." 

She couldn't help the coy smile that curled on her lips while she spoke. An odd sense of confidence filled her. "Are you actually giving me a compliment, Doctor O'Deorain?" Angela asked. 

A small scoff, and slight roll of her eyes. "Don't get used to the idea. You performed one act of selfishness enough for me to be fascinated." O'Deorain made a start towards her desk, getting the stench of nicotine away from Angela at last. It was damn near like an invisible itch gone. "I suppose I do owe you that drink, Doctor Ziegler." 

"Save it." Angela shook her head. "For when I actually save someone elses live, not just my own." 

O'Deorain shrugged. "Have it your way, then. I won't offer again." 

"Trust me. I don't want you to." 

Silence filled the lab. What seemed to be a decent start off now felt tense. Angela replaced her lab coat over her shoulders and made her way back to her desk, looking to continue on her report. Still… hidden from O'Deorain's gaze, she couldn't help but tenderly rub at her own side. The feeling of those fingertips across her skin, tracing the very edge of vital and repairing flesh. It was a feeling so nee to her Angela almost lost her breath thinking about it. Why was that so significant? Why did it make her flutter thinking about it? What was so important about that… what made Angela feel so… strange?

She glanced up periodically, even in the tense atmosphere where she'd usually keep her head down. She'd keep looking at her from afar, see her head angled at her own reports, analyzing her own tests. Possibly reports in the mice that still separated them. Anything. Anything but what she just observed, because O'Deorain wasn't one of those people to just linger on the thoughts of a passing moment…! 

All of a sudden, Angela couldn't focus on her report. As if she could add to much more without a skin sample anyhow, or knowing the exact damage done to her body. She still needed to seek out other sources… so she finally checked her email as a small way to distract herself. Much to her surprise, Ana was the first in her inbox, the message a full report received from Rizzo on the mission. A small note of Ana wishing her well and knowing she'd appreciate it left at the top of the email, bringing a slight smile to her face 

The details of the mission were simple, until it got to the piece Angela so clearly missed due to her unconsciousness. 

_A grenade made its way into the field. Doctor Ziegler was close to the explosion when it went off, throwing her body towards the rest of us. Some enemy fire came from the direction of the explosion, but thankfully no one else was hurt. Doctor Ziegler suffered an injury to her left side, a deep gash from shrapnel and the explosion, torn deeper by her getting ragdolled in our direction. She was unconscious for a few seconds, completely unresponsive as she started to bleed out from the heavy wound. We don't know what she used, but whatever gel she had on her person started to slowly seal up the gash. It worked nearly too slow, but we applied pressure to keep too much blood loss, helping whatever she used. We pulled her unconscious into the drop ship and avoided the vast majority of enemy fire. By the time we reached Base she was no longer severely bleeding, but the wound was still slightly open…_

"Astounding…" Angela murmured, glancing over the report as she took her notes and started scribbling and adding onto them. Her right hand scribbled, anyway. Her left tentatively rubbed at her side, just thinking of the carnage the injury must have looked like. As a doctor it was some kind of sick fascination she had, thinking of exactly how her skin could have been… 

That, and Just how far her science had come to save her life amidst an explosion from a grenade of all things. A near sickening chuckle left her lips. 

She didn't notice the curious glance she got from O'Deorain across the room as she pressed herself into her work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be clear. This is no advancement in their friendship. They're still just as adversaries as before, Angela's made that clear. Oh, and feel free to take Angela's dislike of Nicotine as you will. 
> 
> Doctors and Scientists are weird. Angela and Moira are no exception. 
> 
> Comments and Suggestions are always welcome y'all.


	7. Patience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela plays a waiting game with herself. And other things around her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the sudden stop in the updates! I got a but slammed work wise AND I was trying to do commissions! We should be back on track now! Enjoy!

Angela waited a week. Two weeks. 

There was no change in her skin, nor its color, or how the gold glittered in just the right light. Fully healed with no inflammation, the only remnant that Angela had after her ambush on the field was the golden scar where her skin had been repaired. 

A significant development and mark, Angela had added them to her notes long ago and kept a vial of her nanites on her at all times, not just for good luck, however. The current batch was in her pack for whenever she was sent away on foot on missions, but she was already working on a new formula, a faster reacting one, and hopefully one that wouldn’t leave such a bothersome remnant of it’s work. Of course, Angela didn’t mind scientific evidence of her medical work succeeding. 

She just didn’t like the reminder sitting on her own body. 

Nevertheless, the results were there and it reminded her every time she changed her clothes,the slight glint that would catch her eye if she changed in front of her mirror was damning. The guilt, the wrongness she felt from when she left her room, worked her up each time she looked at it. Self testing was never a route to be taken, and Angela knew that. 

It wasn’t a test, it was life or death. Angela told herself this constantly. And yet… 

Her latest internal turmoil came as she finished her newest program, the upgrade to the previous, or so she thought it was an upgrade. She had yet to test it, of course. With who would she dare? 

The program was loading into her nanites now, allowing Angela a moments rest. That moment, as if it was fate, O’Deorain had stood from her chair on the other side of the lab. Angela had been paying more and more attention now instead of just ignoring her labpartner, and just as clockwork told her these past few days, O’Deorain was going out for a cigarette. 

Angela pretended to stare at her nanites while her coworker left, but after the lab doors closed, she felt her body itch. Her foot tapped, and she couldn’t help herself as she got up from her chair as well, effectively following O’Deorain out of the lab. For the moment, it appeared she didn’t notice the tag-a-long as she made her path through the building, eventually to a small exit outside, not a main entrance or exit, but not labeled as an emergency escape either. Angela let the door swing open, then closed, nearly. She wedged her foot between the door and the frame, looking intently though the small crack to observe O’Deorain from there. It was never her thing to spy, but her curiosity got the better of her. Of what she was curious of, Angela had no damn idea. Just that she was. 

Peering out, vaguely listening in, Angela heard a voice she hadn’t quite recognized. 

“-fraid you were gonna get distracted with a test again, Doc.” 

And they sounded American. Strictly from the Southern portion of the States. Disgusting. At least Commander Morrison wasn’t hard on the ears like this. 

“A test, no” O’Deorain responded as she pulled a pack of cigarettes from her pocket. “ But it does seem a rat has tagged along for the venture.” 

Just as if it were just a snap, Angela felt all eyes on her. She froze up as the other voice, distinctly male, got a good laugh. “Come now, Doctor Ziegler. You’ve come all this way, don't be shy. I can introduce you to our famous Cowboy.” 

She muttered profanities under her breath as she passed through the door, shoving her hands in her pockets. The laughter stopped, quite all of a sudden, and Angela pulled her gaze up just far enough to see exactly what O’Deorain had described. 

A scruffy young man, probably no older than Angela herself, in some dark clothing, a different Overwatch symbol sporting on his shoulder; perhaps from the Blackwatch Division. Immedeatly, he took off his hat, a blush over his dusty looking cheeks. “Well aren’t you a pretty sight for sore eyes” The flirt attempt was obvious, and terrible. “My name’s Jesse, but you can call me your huckleberry” 

A soft, albeit guilty smile covered Angela’s face as she offered her hand for a shake. “Angela Ziegler. It's... nice to meet you, McCree.” 

He put his hat back on, opting for the shake but not quite resigning his grin. O’Deorain, on the other hand, was making some sound Angela hadn’t quite heard before. For the moment, she elected to ignore it. “Is this always how you greet new women you meet, McCree?” Angela asked him curiously as she made her way to his other side, allowing her lab partner some space. 

“Only when they’re prettier than a lilly and brighter than a sundrop.” Jesse responded without missing a beat, pulling his cigarette from the corner of his mouth to flick the ash from it. “How come I don't see you out here if you have to work with her all the time?” 

“Please,” Angela and O’Deorain had both responded, almost in perfect unison. Angela blushed deeply at the timing, but managed to get her words in first. “I’m a Medical Professional. I… I don't partake in such terrible habits.” 

That elicited a scoff from O’Deorain this time as she lit up her own cigarette and leaned on the railing. “Bold of you to assume that she isn’t the reason I’ve been smoking lately.” O'Deorain herself tacked on, taking a drag. 

"Come on, she doesn't look that bad" McCree seemed to attempt to defend her, but she wasn't having any of it. Angela scrunched her nose at both of them, but didn’t move or react otherwise to the conversation now completely out of her control. She too, opted to lean against the railing and watch the waves from the distance, or what she could of them. Anything to focus on besides the two next to her. Or the smell. It was practically unbearable as she clenched her hands tightly into fists. Her curiosity, whatever it may have been, was sated. Why was she still here…? All it was going to do was...

“Hey, Doc.” McCree seemed to be directing his attention to her, giving her a nudge. It completely brought her out of her train of thought. “You sure you don’t smoke?” 

She shook her head instantly, looking over at him and easing herself away slightly, from both him and the rail. “No, I don’t” Angela responded in quite the quick snap. The way he presented his question wasn’t exactly the way a normal person would have suggested it. He almost sounded skeptical of her, and she had barely met him. “Why would you ask?” 

McCree seemed to do her just a bit of dignity saving, glancing over at O’Deorain and ensuring she wasn’t paying attention, before giving his attention completely back to Angela. “Its your hands. You’re also stiff as hell.” 

A shrug, and she turned away from him. “I _do not_ smoke, McCree.” 

“If you say so,” He responded as he leaned over the bar. “If you change your mind, I’ll let you have one.” 

Angela rolled her eyes, and this time forced herself away from the poll. He was right, her hand was shaking. She was tense. But it had no in part due to cigarettes. Not like that. “I’ll see you back in the lab, Doctor O’Deorain.” Angela stated quite bluntly before she made her way to the door. 

In passing, she heard only what she could assume was some form of insult in Gaelic. She cursed under her own breath in Swiss German as her fist nicked the doorframe on the way in. 

\--- --- --- 

Hardly any progress was made on the download process in Angela’s short time conducting her minor investigation. She plopped herself back in her chair rather unceremoniously as she looked at the bar load, the nanites buzzing around in the tank as the program worked itself. Designed to take in any new program and spread it to one another, as if it were a disease .Angela only wished the process had been faster, given the amount in her storage unit. Nevertheless, they buzzed, the bar loaded, and she crossed her arms as she waited. 

That was when she felt the wetness from her previous scrape. She pulled her hand back up to see the small (smeared) well of blood over her knuckle and cursed yet again under her breath. It wasn’t anything severe, just a scrape. Just as if she had tripped on a playground. She reached from her desk for a band aid for the time being to patch it up, ignoring her computer in hopes it would work faster. 

Alas, hardly a percent. 

Angela growled a little at it while she drummed her fingers, thinking of what else, anything else, she could be doing. 

Perhaps she should have struck up a conversation with McCree, had she not gotten offended at his question. Then again, she really didn’t like being around the smoke. It irritated her to degrees she never thought possible beforehand. That, and his voice was beyond grating. At least Commander Morrison was easier to listen to, she used as an excuse. 

O’Deorain was back within five minutes, sitting at her chair as if not a think had happened. Angela hardly looked up to give her the time of day or acknowledgement of her arrival, even if staring at this screen was boring beyond belief. On the other hand, it seemed someone else didn’t want to swipe this situation away as easily. 

“You know, instead of following me, you could have asked what I do.” Condescending, as ever. 

Angela didn’t look up, merely deciding to open her emails instead. “I could have. But that’s not nearly as fun as following you and finding a new escape route.” Angela’s response was equally as disconcerning, her fingers drumming at the side of her laptop. “... Besides, if I had asked, you wouldn’t tell me outright what you do. You never tell anyone what you do.” 

She could feel O’Deorains glare on her, but not very intensely. They left the silence between them, heavy in the air as no response came from O’Deorain. It would have been suspicious, and she would have been captivated and edged by the silence, if not for her emails suddenly taking precedence. 

It’s not like anything _she_ had to say was any bit interesting anyway. 

_Angela, _

_ Meet me in the shooting range at 1500. You need to learn how to protect yourself in battle, the next few assignments you will be going on won’t be as easy as the one you saved your own life with._

_-Amari_

Wonderful, another thing to test her patience with. Weapons and Violence. 

\--- --- --- 

Despite her dread to do so, Angela allowed herself to step up to the indoor shooting range, near the workshops, just as Ana had requested her to. Hopefully, the ranges would be empty enough for Angela to not have to encounter anyone else, or have them bare witness to the absolute joke of a shot she was. 

Ana was gladly waiting by a counter, not even bothered that Angela seemed to walk in two minutes late, or appear as if she was dreading the situation. “Angela, I was wondering if you’d began to get cold feet on me.” Ana greeted her. 

A shake of her head, Angela merely gripped the inside of her labcoat pockets all that much tighter. “No, Captain. Just scared.” 

She seemed to wave it off as she stepped off to the side. “You’ll be fine. All of this is controlled and you won't be hitting any real targets." Ana almost tsked then. "It's just to get you some practice in, in case you need to"

Still, her ever present frown remained. "Why should I have to? Shouldn't the team be able to protect me without me… you know?" Angela gestured vaguely to the table with the chosen weapons. "Getting violent…?"

Ana sighed, shaking her head slightly. "Angela, I don't want you to have to kill. In the best circumstances you'll never need to touch a weapon. But there are times when certain such events may become unavoidable. Like if you get separated, for example. An Omnic won't stop just because you're a healer." Ana explained as she gestured Angela over. "It's not like I expect you to be shooting people."

A lump caught in her throat, just at the vague mention of her hand being the one to hurt another human being. At least, in a way as violent as a firearm. She walked over, uncertainty reaching for the pistol laid on the table. Small, simple weapon, easier to deal with, Angela reasoned. 

As Ana started giving her instructions, place her feet a certain width apart, shoulders square, down the sights, all the instruction she could possibly receive. But of course Angela had to think on if she'd really be able to memorize all of these things out in the field, or without Ana breathing down her neck. Well .. perhaps she'd do better without Ana doing just that, lighting her nerves in ways she couldn't describe. She just needed a moment, she needed to breathe… it was hard with the gun sitting in her hand, a reminder pulling back memories she had pushed away. Trembles took hold of her, she couldn't stop them, but she could try to focus on something, anything beyond the weight she held. So, she stared right at the paper target infront of her. She took that simple breath, trying to calm her shaky hands, before pulling the trigger. Once, twice, three times. Each pull made her jump more than the last, and how she hated the reverberation in her skin. 

One at a time, Angela emptied each clip she was handed, and her trembling grew worse. Ana collected each and every one of the papers after each clip, menial improvement through each of them. At some point, Angela had to wipe her cheek on her sleeve, doing so as Ana was pulling the paper. She didn't need her boss see her in practical tears.

After what seemed to be twenty minutes, she placed the gun down, the final target down the far end of the range having hardly any holes in it from her fire. Ana pulled the paper to examine the final marks, Angela could tell with the knit in her brow she was trying not to seem too disappointed at them, or her slight shake that grew worse after putting down the weapon. Somewhere in herself Angela could just feel the disappointment seep in, a feeling she hadn't quite felt before, or at least not since she was a child. It almost felt like a hole eating its way into her stomach… 

Ana placed her target paper down before long, loosely examining it. "Not bad…" Angela perked slightly. "For a doctor shaking like a leaf." Ana tried to give her an encouraging smile.

It did little to help her anxiety. "I'm sorry, Captain… Firearms are not… something I'm fond of" Angela said in defense, pulling her feet together and trying to straighten herself. She had all the precision in the world with a scalpel, and yet, she couldn't manage this. Logically she knew the skills didn't quite transfer over, and Ana knew that as well. 

"Maybe we should find you a Pellet or Paint gun to use instead" Ana lightly chuckled as she folded the paper up. "Get you practice. It takes patience to learn and gain skill with a firearm. Just like it takes skill to do as you do daily." 

Angela nodded. Patience seemed to be a virtue today, and just like a good doctor should she had plenty of it. For now. "I'll… Give it my best shot, Ana." 

Somehow, for some reason, that had Ana laughing. Angela missed her own irony and tilted her head slightly, waiting for her to calm down. "You'll get better in time. Next time, tell me you're having a bad memories while shooting. Well stop sooner." Ana said kindly, patting Angela's shoulder and starting out. All it did was make Angela slightly more confused. 

"How .. did you know?" Angela asked curiously. 

"You're very bad at trying to hide your treamours." Ana have her a rather cheery smile. "Next time I'll stop you myself. Are we clear, Doctor?" 

She felt something akin to lightning shoot down her spine as she became bolt upright, fighting off a proper salute. "Yes, Captain."

Ana turned back to her leave, allowing Angela to be alone in the shooting range, with her slight embarrassment of targets. With a deep flush she grabbed the most recent one, still pinned to the track, and ripped it off with a bit of a flush. Patience. She had plenty of patience. It was wearing thin, even for herself. 

She spent the rest of her day not only mulling on her victims of shooting targets, but other things that she shouldn't have been thinking of. Of O'Deorain. Of that American, Jesse McCree, and the twisting sensation in her very veins as she thought on it all. As her thoughts continued, Angela did keep tabs on her Nanites, the update progress of them. It was awfully slower than the last update meaning either something was wrong, or the programs were too similar to one another. Or.. something else entirely she didn't know.

This, oddly enough, _was_ the only thing Angela seemed to have any patience for. Probably because it was her own free will to deal with this, rather than the lingering thoughts from the day. 

When the program finally concluded it's installment after dinner, Angela was quick to capture some of it in a vial to keep in her pocket, in case of any emergencies, of course. That's all it was. 

Deciding not to wait around and take anymore flack from O'Deorain, she swiftly took her vial with her to her living space, shutting and locking her door promptly on entry. It was time for herself, now. First came her coat, which smelled faintly of nicotine from mingling with mongrels outside, and of course the tiny bit of gunpowder. Sickening. Maddening even. 

Her bandaid had snagged on the sleeve of her coat, tugging it off just slightly. Damn cheap adhesive. Angela threw her coat down before pulling the bandaid off. It made her do a double take promptly after. 

Instead of the small scrape that was over her knuckle just earlier in the day, was scarred, very tender looking flesh… as if the wound was a few days old instead of hours. 

Patience was indeed a virtue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angela is brilliant. Or she fucked up. Y'know, typical experimental medicine stuff. 
> 
> Comments and suggestions are always welcome 💙


	8. The Descent Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela dips her toes in what could be the start of a downfall...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! So I know this is extremely Angela centric. There's not a lot of dialogue, and its mostly a lot of internal conflict, but the moment is vital to the story. Please bear with me while you read.

Angela waited a few hours, spurred on in reading her previous notes and checking up on previous patients she once cared for. Not once did she recall or read on any of them reporting an abnormal rate of healing after surgeries where she had used her very basic program of Nanites. 

At the very same time, none of them had their lives saved from a grenade by her Nanites either. The dose was so large the Nanites must still be lingering in her body. That's what Angela told herself, at least. 

When the night was settled in Angela slipped from her room, bringing her vial but not her lab coat, and pulled herself to the Medical Bay. Before anything else, she needed a blood sample. A good one. It was convenient she had practiced blood draws and tourniquets on herself in med school, if only to prevent other students from talking to her (and, of course, from poking too many holes. She wasn't exactly fond of becoming a human pin cushion). But of course, the difficulty wasn't so much as drawing her blood, as it was getting the materials to do it herself. Rarely had she ever trespassed in the bay after it was already closed, or rather when certain personnel didn't need to be there. Angela wasn't sure if there was some sort of security measures, or if certain people were locked out without the right permissions.

Surprisingly enough, when she put her ID to the scanner the door opened just as it should. No extra security measures, which meant it was open whenever Angela needed to get in. Good to know. 

She slipped in, quickly running in the bay as if she was facing a coding patient in the ER, back in Zürich. A certain kind of rush filled her as she made her way in a beeline straight to the drawing equipment, including extra medical-grade vials and syringes. Much to her satisfaction, there was no other staff roaming around at this time, and the only indication of another human being inside the Medical Bay was the one office door closed with the light still on inside, but the shades closed. 

Once all of her items were gathered, she dashed out just as quickly as she had come in. Her heart hammered in her chest, the whole ordeal feeling like some kind of danger, or against the rules. Trouble. Angela had never been in trouble before. But whoever said drawing your own blood was against the rules in Overwatch? Surely no one would mind… 

Her thoughts and her heart didn't slow, picked up even as she pressed her ID on the scanner for the lab. The rush of cooler air onto her skin did little to soothe her as she stepped through the threshold and let the door shut behind her. She made her way to her table, ignoring her closed laptop for the moment, and pulled her sleeve for the tourniquet to be tied, and readied the needle.

It was going to be a long night for her. 

\--- --- --- 

The blood samples in the vials were set to the side as Angela studied some samples taken in syringes, placed in Petri dishes and even further onto microscopic slides. The whole thing about nanites was that they were tiny when individual, and if every single one she dumped on her body _stayed_ in her body, they’d surely be visible to her under a microscope. Which, they were. The occasional glimpse of a tiny bot surged her curiosity and fueled her desire to learn more. Every slide was another note on a few scattered papers she brought to the side. 

What was more interesting than the nanites simply remaining in her bloodstream, was how they seemed to even buzz and move around in her blood, as if searching for skin and wounds to repair. As long as the samples sensed oxygen, the nanites moved and wiggled in the blood. 

Completely and utterly fascinating. 

Angela studied her samples for the better part of two hours. She wound up even forgetting that she was looking at her own blood, lost in the discovery and the results. Eventually, Angela pulled back and looked at the time, just to see how long she had before O’Deorain would eventually come to disrupt her. Still so many hours to go and yet, Angela felt like they would never be enough. If she had blood samples laying around when O'Deorain came in, who knew what kind of fit she'd throw, or if she'd report Angela for some rhyme or reason before listening to her. 

At the very same time, Angela felt almost as if O'Deorain would be fascinated. She was interested in cell regeneration… and this was loosely connected. The only thing shattering that perfect vision in which she'd genuinely capture her interest without her own life being in danger was the initial brush off she had on the Nanites. The marks of the papers and how she so easily dismissed Angela without a thought… she didn't notice how deeply it had bothered her in that moment until she had zoomed in too far with the scope, effectively cracking her current slide. 

"Verdamnt…" she mumbled faintly before readjusting the microscope. There wasn't much more to search for anyhow, she knew her Nanites were still in her system, which meant so long as she had them, injuries would heal slightly faster. Or, at least small ones. 

It got Angela thinking. She purses her lips slightly as she started to clean up her mess. If the scrape was practically healed within hours, what would happen with a cut? A sutured wound? Would the healing process also be reduced for larger wounds or take about the same time since the damage was on a grander scale? So many questions, and yet no way to answer them. It made her more curious than ever to see what such a small dose of Nanites could do to her body, as well as how long the Nanites would function. 

Save for two vials of blood, Angela had deposited the rest of her mess into a biohazard waste bin, hoping the sturdy covering would be enough to keep prying eyes from seeing the materials. As for her remaining samples, she slid them in a drawer for the moment, having no spare place to put them while she was trying to hide the fact she even drew her own blood in the first place. She still didn't even understand why she was trying to hide so hard, there really was nothing against the rules about drawing blood, not for medical purposes. This was technically a medical purpose. Wasn't it?

Angela found herself slightly stuck now, with her messy Swiss notes and little else to go on, the question of how much and how quick her Nanites could heal was a true problem to her now. Slowly, thoughts came to press as she looked at the papers, then her own hand at a glance. 

With a quick bite to her lip and squeezing her eyes shut, Angela quickly and swiftly gave herself a paper cut. It stung, but somehow slightly less so than she remembered it. Blood slowly started to well and she pulled her simple box of Band-Aids from the drawer yet again, covering her little cut shortly after. No need to get excess blood over everything she reasoned. It wasn't as simple as the scrape she suffered from the door, but at least it was something. Something to test out her Nanites further. If it was mostly healed by the time she needed to rise for her regular routine, she'd have a very interesting follow-up set of notes for herself later on. 

Angela left the Lab before long, sleep tugging at her eyes finally after staring through an intense lit lense for a while. That and the blood she had drawn was making her slightly drowsy as well. She placed her notes face down on her desk in her living space, hardly bothering to change her clothes as she just let herself fall into the bed, shutting her eyes and taking a breath. It was going to be an interesting day tomorrow. And even as she felt herself tap her bandaged finger, she couldn't help but feel some sort of eerie sense of wrong. She couldn't place it, but it was there. 

Her only question was why. 

\--- --- --- 

It was practically healed. 

She pulled at her skin, and it did not break or bleed. It was tender, yes, but no injury to be had. It was… interesting to say the least, just how effective her Nanites had been. Sleep did also tend to expedite any healing process so that only furthered to hasten her body's healing. It was so interesting, and yet so vaguely damning. Her notes had an additional page in them before she tugged them with her to the lab, this time fully dressed in proper attire with her lab coat, and the bandaid discarded elsewhere. 

Not to her surprise, O'Deorain was already in the lab, checking on her rats as she had some test running with them. Angela paid little mind as she moved to her desk and pulled out her laptop to start translating and refining her notes, pulling them into another case report for Ana to view later for her progress. 

_Patient X seemed to have sustained the Nanites delivered upon administration from the previous injury. The theory of it seemed to be many of the Nanites in the solution administered to Patient X must have been trapped inside the body when the skin fused together under the golden scarring. Evidence of the sustained Nanites has been a slight increase in the speed of healing to minuscule cuts and small scrapes, like one would receive running their hands into something. The injuries of this nature usually would take a day and a half to heal, whereas, after the Nanites, Patient X seemed to heal these small wounds within several hours. It is unknown if Patient X currently can heal quicker under more severe circumstances, but small, insignificant injuries are less of a concern of caution. _

_Another notation for these Nanites remaining in the body is their remnants in Patient X blood, studied under microscopic supervision. When studied, the Nanites showed signs of movement as if trying to find the skin to attach to and heal. When exposed to oxygen, the Nanites must believe some injury has been sustained and the bots attempt to scramble together to knit the wound closed. A fascinating phenomenon._

"Awfully aggressive on that keyboard today, Doctor Ziegler." Not the opening Angela anticipated but it was one nonetheless. "Did your computer do something to upset you?" 

She quietly pulled her hands away from the keyboard, realizing quickly that she had been quite rough in her determination and excitement. "No. Merely a breakthrough is all" Angela responded calmly, looking over her notes again just to avoid looking at her. 

O'Deorain cocked an eyebrow up regardless while the rat currently in her hand wiggled. "A breakthrough, hm? And how would you have gotten that with no testing?" O'Deorain inquired, rubbing her thumb over the rat's small head. "Unless you're talking about-" 

"My battlefield injury. Yes." Angela said quickly. "The… golden flecks have dissipated, finally." 

A heavy moment of silence weighed and Angela looked at her fully. There was something even at this distance that Angela thought she saw on her face, some kind of disbelief. Or maybe she was imagining it. Damn her guilty conscious. "Hardly something to be excited about but, I suppose Medical Doctors have different ideas of good news and progress." O'Deorain broke the silence finally, also ending their staredown. She gently out the rat back in its cage before turning to Angela completely. "Really, though. I don't understand how you expect to develop this and gain results without testing. Even of the animals, something useful could be learned. There's plenty of rats to choose from." 

Angela tried not to huff at the words. "Testing it on Animals would be cruel regardless of the purpose, there could be a chance it backfires. And even so, you're using all… of the…" Angela's speech slowed as she suddenly thought of something. Something her mind reminded her from the day before. To be perfectly honest the thought had been dormant in the back of her mind. "Rats."

_"But it does seem a_ **rat** _has tagged along for the venture."_

If O'Deorain noticed her hesitance, she didn't show it. "You said each new program builds off of the previous, I doubt you'd royally screw yourself so terribly your nanites would eat flesh instead of mend it. It's hardly a cruelty statement.." O'Deorain continued on as if she was expecting some sort of debate on the topic. Usually, this would be just the thing she was willing to fight for.

However, Angela didn't respond, she didn't even think about the words after a certain point. All she did in the moment was brush her thumb over where the cut from the night before was, how it had inflicted her skin so… and quickened healing. 

And the good luck vial Angela had kept in her coat pocket. 

For a few moments, Angela was completely lost in her thoughts, thinking it all over. Eventually, she looked back up at O’Deorain and watched as she continued talking. O'Deorain's eyes were locked on to hers as she had spun, just to meet Angela's rising gaze. 

“You’re not paying any attention, are you, Ziegler?” 

“I… was,” Angela responded shortly. “How my nanites would benefit rather than harm. But that's…” She found herself stumbling. It was hard to come up with a rebuttal when she hadn’t really listened to the rest of the debate. “Animals are companions, not tools.” 

O’Deorain seemed to resist rolling her eyes. “Moderately surprised you aren’t a vegan at this rate, really.” She said, heading back to her desk at last. “If you’re going to sit and daydream or assault a keyboard, would you do it elsewhere? You’re disturbing my studies.” 

Angela pursed her lips at the shade, but… it did present her with the opportunity she needed. “Alright, I will.” 

Her colleague made an odd noise from across the room. “You’re actually leaving?” 

“Well,” Angela slipped a spare vial into her pocket with her left hand as her right closed her laptop lid. A sleight of hand, if you will. “I wouldn’t want to hurt the rat’s ears with my hard typing. They already have to listen to your drag of a voice when you mutter to yourself.” she continued, pulling her laptop to herself. “Have a nice day, Doctor O’Deorain.” 

If she had a response, she didn’t say it, merely watched with intense eyes as Angela made her way out of the lab. An empty stare, Angela felt it as she exited. She couldn’t help the harsh beat of her heart, the slight way her lips curved. Not for the words she spoke, but rather what she was intending to do with her new ‘free’ time. 

Although, free wasn’t quite the way to put it. 

\--- --- --- 

It was hard enough getting materials from the Medical bay when there was no one there, but wandering around it with people moving around and buzzing, looking for materials for a patient or just to take inventory, made it substantially more difficult. Angela had to act as if she was trying to familiarize herself yet again, despite being the first one to rush around the corner for a necessary item or medicine. 

It took about fifteen minutes before she could properly procure herself not only a small syringe but a proper IV kit small enough to be placed in her laptop bag and not be crushed. Every step of the way brought her heart harder and faster in her chest. 

It wasn’t right, and she knew it. 

But… if she didn’t do this, what other choices could she have? Try on animals who would react differently to her nanites, or immorally test on someone else who wasn’t quite sure what they were signing up for? Neither of those things would do. Not for Angela. Realistically, this was the only option. She already had the start, what was she doing that she hadn’t already done in that abandoned town? 

She finally slipped into her room before long, shutting and promptly locking her door. Securely passed by O’Deorain, feigned innocence through the Medical Bay, and now she was here. Angela sat at her desk as she quickly pulled out everything she had retrieved for herself, including her spare nanite vial in her pocket. For a few moments, she stared at the last piece to her puzzle with intent, the soft golden hue of the Nanites mystifying her while simultaneously terrifying her. 

“You… already have Nanites in your body, Angela.” She started talking herself up, words soft as she thumbed the vial carefully. “You aren’t doing anything that wasn’t already done…” 

Her leg bounced beneath her as she set the vial to the side. She took several breaths to calm herself before setting herself up, much as she did to get her blood samples. The needle pinch was even more bearable than the last. Although, getting the line to stick was the harder challenge. At least with the draw, she could let it sit while she was still. Who was she kidding, she wasn’t quite the fan of sticking herself no matter what the purpose was.

It was a process, getting the IV to stick right, getting the Nanites in the syringe, and finally getting it lined up so that way it would drip properly. All that Angela needed to do was push it. For a minute it seemed, she stared at the syringe, holding a majority of her vial. So close, and yet… She could feel her heart in her throat, heavy and weighing. There was no reason to hesitate, she tried to tell herself. She already had them. There was no harm to be done. 

Angela shut her eyes and took in a breath as she slowly pushed it down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, Angela's done gone off the deep end, even if she's hesitating. Yes, Moira's words did help. But the real thing we've gotta be asking ourselves here... is if Moira knows what Angela is doing? 
> 
> I'll let you all decide that yourselves. 
> 
> Comments and suggestions are always welcome!


	9. Stress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela becomes overwhelmed with conflict after her Nanite dose... and seeks solace with an unintended ending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi I'm Tig I spent 3 hours fixing my beat beat machine and idk what self-control is. Here's chapter 9 and I'm sure I'll spit out 10 before long. After I sleep though. Enjoy!

The pressure built and washed over her, and she couldn’t quite get the feeling out of her focus. 

For about an hour now, Angela lie on her bed, letting the rest of the IV drip slowly but surely, giving her enough fluid to dilute the nanites as they filled her. Even so, she felt strange. Not exactly the heavy feeling that a dose of morphine might give, and it wasn’t the light airy feeling that she assumed people would have when spending their time on weed. It was something else, something that was a knot and not there at all. 

Or, well, it could very well be the anxiety of her getting caught with what she had done. 

One thing was for sure, she felt nearly suffocated. But she wasn’t sure if the feeling was good or bad for her. Just like she wasn’t sure if this would really be a good idea for her or not. 

Really, Angela knew the answer deep down, but she couldn’t bring herself to fully admit it. Not after she had taken this plunge. Literally. 

The hour she waited to let the IV drip, Angela could only count the numerous punishments awaiting her should she be caught with her own nanites in her bloodstream. At the very same time, no one should be able to catch her if they aren’t looking at her blood in a microscope or ... other such things. 

No matter what she tried to comfort herself with, it didn’t work. Every thought was another reason, and if it weren’t for just how O’Deorain tended to look at her as if she could see every move, ten steps ahead…

Angela clenched her jaw tight and gripped at her bedsheets, almost fighting off a groan. 

It was impossible. 

O’Deorain was, for all intents and purposes, a god damn hawk. She had age and skill beyond Angela’s years and at some point, in some way, it intimidated her. That she could read her like a damn book. Angela wasn’t afraid anyone was going to catch her and tell Captain Amari. 

She was afraid _Moira O’Deorain_ was going to sell her out. 

Damn it, she couldn’t breathe in here! 

Angela quickly pulled off the tape from her IV, pulling the needle free from her arm with little pressure to assist. It hurt, just a bit, and the blood welled quickly. But she didn’t give herself the time to tend to it properly as she promptly tried shutting the valve of the line before abandoning it on her bed. Quickly snatching her lab coat and attached ID, she made her way out of her room and promptly headed towards the exit she followed O’Deorain to before. 

The walk quickly turned into a brisk run, as if she was answering a page to the ER. Except for the only page she was hearing was the one in her mind, telling her she needed to breathe. Maybe breathe wasn’t quite the right word for it. 

She was at a full run by the time she made her way outside the door, throwing it open with a force she seldom used. The sun was barely at its highest, nearly noon, or at least that's what she figured. She pulled herself to the railing and leaned against it, supporting herself as she took heaping breaths of fresh air (or, as fresh as you can get, still being in a military compound, of course). It did very little to soothe the begging her lungs were doing, the heave of her chest was heavy as she tried to focus. At this rate, she might as well just be hyperventilating. 

It took her minutes to calm down, to get enough air in that she could properly be upright, still slightly leaned against the bars. Her hand snapped in a familiar motion. Her body begged for something she couldn’t give it. She had no way of giving it. Why would her body react like this to the Nanites…? As if it was deprived. 

Maybe Angela herself was the deprived one as she tried to stop her movements. Nothing came of it. 

The door opened, and the noise it made had Angela jump in her own skin. She turned back to figure out who had spotted her, only to see the vaguely familiar face of Jesse McCree, looking at her with a bit of a dumbfounded look on his face. 

“Doctor … uh, Zeeger. Doc.” He tried greeting her. The glare he promptly received from her shortly thereafter was enough of a deterrent from him trying to speak her name again. “Didn’t expect to see you out here.” 

Angela slumped back against the railing, squeezing her eyes shut, some mild attempt to ignore him. “Yes, well, I didn’t expect to see you out here either, McCree.” 

He came up to her right side, leaning with his back against the railing as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. “Whatcha out here for? Is the other Doc getting on your last nerve?” 

“No.” Angela said it, perhaps a bit too quickly, keeping her head turned away. “No, no it has nothing to do with her.” A blatant lie, really. But it wasn’t the only thing on her mind either. 

McCree made some sort of hum at her before he nudged her. “Whatever’s bothering you, she ain’t here yet. And won’t before a good five minutes. You want a smoke?” 

She glanced up at him, looking between his hand holding the unlit cigarette towards her and back to his face, a vague smile, crooked a little and not at all complimented by the scruff on the sides of his face. Her eyes lingered on the offer just a moment too long before she sighed, snatching it out of his grasp and holding out her hand for the lighter. 

“Y’know it’s a little tricky. It might make a lady such as you choke.” McCree told her, as if it was a perfectly reasonable warning while he pulled it out of his pocket. 

She snatched the lighter from him quickly and lit the end up. After she took a brief drag, she handed the lighter back to him with a bit of a glare from the side. No words were said, however, as she quickly looked back at the ground to attempt to hide from the shame. Off to the side, she could hear McCree taking out another cigarette and lighting his own. 

All at once, her body slowly started calming down. The further the ash went, the easier time she had breathing, feeling herself once again. The tightness in her chest, how oddly constricted her body felt, everything had melted away. Angela sighed a deep breath of relief once she was mostly through with her cigarette and looked over at her temporary companion again. A slight blush covered her face as she looked away, just to notice him glancing back at her. 

“... Thank you, Jesse.” 

He let out a small chuckle, tipping his hat for her. “Didn’t realize you were already familiar with it. Just didn’t want the other Doc to see you have one in your hand?” Jesse asked her. 

She shook her head. “No. Not that I just… I kicked the habit ages ago when I couldn’t lift them off my college classmates anymore.” Angela responded, taking another quick puff and flicking the ash to the side. “There’s just… something about this place, about her, that makes everything so… so…” 

“Stressful? Unbearable?” Jesse filled in for her. 

“... Those words as well. But something more…” Angela said. Now she stared at the sky as if trying to count stars that weren’t there. The cigarette and the conversation proved mildly ample distraction from the mutilation she had just performed on her body and now filled her with a different kind of dread. “... I just… I can’t find the right words to describe it.” 

Jesse left the silence alone for a moment before he also turned, staring at the same nothing that Angela was. “Ain’t nothing like home?” 

“... No.” Angela responded quietly after a few solid moments of silent deliberation. “Nothing like home.” 

“I get it.” Jesse said, standing up and taking his hat off. “Gibraltar, Spain, it’s nothing like the States. Hell, the Spanish I know does nothing for around here. The only thing it’s good for is talking to the Boss when I don't want Morrison to know I’m shit talking him.” 

For whatever reason, that got a rouse out of her. Angela chuckled slightly. “I’ve only met Commander Morrison once. He seemed nice… but full of himself.” She responded. “... You do too. It must be an American thing.” 

Jesse laughed loudly after the fact, a deep hearty noise. “You can say that again. I haven’t met a single person from the states who wasn't full of themselves in one way or another. Back in Deadlock, my boss there had a real big attitude. But that was because she was one of those rich ones. Spoiled like hell and threw her money around like candy.” Jesse chuckled, shaking his head and putting his hat back on. “But I’d take her big, bitchy attitude over a lot of the shit I’ve got to deal with here.”

Angela nodded, understanding it vaguely. “... It doesn’t feel comfortable here. It’s not… not a family.” Angela said. 

“Yeah, something like that.” Jesse responded, finally taking a proper resting position against the railing yet again. 

For a few more minutes, they were silent together. Understanding one another’s company, knowing a bit more about one another in a way that Angela wasn’t fully prepared to share. Even if a few secrets got out, at least none were told to Ana, or worse, to O’Deorain. 

Her cigarette finally ran out after a short while and she flicked the butt of it elsewhere, too damn ashamed of herself to want to look at it longer, more or less dispose of it properly. Even now, her body still felt slightly heavy, the feeling she was experiencing now much closer to that of morphine than before. Perhaps her anxiety and stress had really caused conflicting feelings. Or, maybe it was just the nicotine finally making her relax more in her own skin. For the time being, she was at peace with _that_ piece of herself. 

At least, until the door opened yet again. She didn’t turn this time, knowing very well who was at the back door. 

“Really now.” O’Deorain announced herself quite promptly. “You turn tail and run from the lab just to wind up out here. During my smoke break, nonetheless.” 

Angela felt something tug at her. She wanted to say something to O’Deorain, bite at her. But it seemed Jesse had it handled first. “Leave her alone, Doc.” Jesse said. “Don’t see your name out here on this patio.”

O’Deorain gave off a growl as she settled herself next to Jesse, on his other side. All the while she was giving Angela quite the cold glare, that she could barely see out of the corner of her own eye. “Well. Seeing as you _are_ out here, have you finally calmed down against your machine?” 

“Just so.” Angela responded promptly, squeezing her hands to prevent herself from making any incriminating motions. She was equally as glad that she had brought her lab coat, the sleeves enough to hide her arm from O’Deorain noticing the blood clot that surely had formed by then. “My status report is finished. Thank you for your concern.” 

A small scoff lead into a dreadfully heavy silence between the three of them. Angela didn’t want to move just yet. She knew the moment she’d step inside her body would be feeling deprived of something else, just not nicotine this time. 

She couldn’t bear, however, the smell of nicotine from a source that wasn’t hers. O’Deorain’s pack smelled worse than how Jesse’s tasted in her mouth. 

So, she pushed herself away from the rail, stuffing her hands in her pockets. “I’ll be in the lab, Doctor O’Deorain.” 

“Later, Doctor Z!” Jesse waved at her, clearly trying to imprint some good memories from their time outside together. “See you again soon.” 

Angela smiled faintly at him, giving him a slight wave before she departed back inside, making a slow start towards her room once the door was shut. She still needed to get her laptop, after all. 

\--- --- --- 

With O’Deorain out of the lab for another few minutes, Angela barely hesitated in the next observation of her research. She pulled up her sleeve, just to check on the hole left by her IV. Not that they were very noticeable to begin with, but Angela could visibly see no evidence whatsoever of the needle prick, and she had only removed it nigh on fifteen, perhaps twenty minutes ago. “... Fascinating...” She mumbled, rubbing her finger over the crook of her elbow. 

She pulled her laptop out before long, refreshing the email she had open as she quickly started taking down notes on the current development. The feeling in her limbs as she tried moving after getting her sudden cigarette craving out of the way, how her body reacted when she was initially injected with her Nanites…. All in Swiss-German, and in as messy handwriting as she could manage without making it unreadable to herself. Just in case a set of prying eyes had wanted to translate it, they’d have a hard time doing so. Not that she believed any soul had a reason to want to translate her notes. Yet. The formatting would come later to make the application less suspicious. After all, she needed to give Amari a report on something regarding her nanites. 

Briefly, Angela looked up at her laptop as the door opened. O’Deorain stepped through and hardly passed a glance at Angela before sitting back down at her own desk, allowing her to shift through her emails in peace. 

The only thing worthy of nothing was an email from Ana detailing another mission she’d been scheduled to take with the same team as last time. Rizzo, as well as the other three. This time it didn’t seem they were going as a scout team, more of as a strike team. The very threat made Angela pale and shrink in her skin. 

But at the same time… the idea of a new mission thrilled her to bits. It meant she could test her injection on a grander scale, should she herself get injured. What a strange thing to get excited about… It was enough of a confidence booster to send her understanding and affirmation to Ana in a responding email, just before she settled back to her notes. 

She was nervous as all hell, she didn’t want to be around the combat scene again. Not after how the previous two attempts went. 

… This time, at least, Angela was prepared. 

Her silent contemplation over her future for the morning was shattered a moment afterward, O’Deorain making some noise to gain Angela’s attention. “You know, you aren’t as coy as you think you are, Doctor Ziegler.” 

Shit. Had she already figured out everything? Saw right through her? Angela hoped the distance between their desks was enough to keep O’Deorain from seeing the ridge of her brow crease over. “What is it that you think I’m hiding?” She asked curiously, meeting that hardened gaze from across the room. 

“If you smoke, just go smoke elsewhere. Don’t bother letting yourself around the Cowboy. He’ll kill what few brain cells you actually do have.” O’Deorain said.

What a backhanded compliment, a compliment nonetheless. And more so, it was nothing about her Nanites. She visibly relaxed under the revelation. “Whether I smoke or not isn’t quite your business. I could have been getting air and he joined me.” Angela responded quite curtly. 

“Please.” O’Deorain seemed to momentarily scoff. “There are plenty of other places. That just happened to be the place you knew you could get a cigarette off.” 

While she wasn’t incorrect, Angela knew that wasn’t the reason she ran out that particular door. “Maybe it was just the fastest and closest to my room.” Angela said. 

Another noise, mildly unimpressed. “Just don’t invade more of my territory than you already have, Muzzy. You’re in this lab at your own persistence, not because I enjoy your company.” 

Angela briefly scowled but did nothing otherwise. O’Deorain wasn’t worth her time, not while she was bordering on the edge of greatness, and a great catastrophe. In her mind, anyway.

Besides, it wasn't like Angela knew exactly what she had just been called in the first place...

\--- --- ---

“Angela!” Rizzo had greeted her with excitement in the docking bay. This time there was no sense of flirtation or mocking in his voice, only sincere gratitude, to which Angela was grateful. “It’s nice to see you on your feet! You gave us quite the scare the last time we saw you.” 

She tried to chuckle, to laugh it off. Anything to distract him from looking at her hands as she clenched the straps tight. This morning, her body felt much lighter, more normal than before. Whatever residing effect the Nanites had given her, she wasn’t feeling it anymore. Which, in a way, was slightly unfortunate. All she felt now was the unbearable urge to meet up with Jesse, share another few minutes of a silent understanding and destress. Alas, at 06:00, there was no hope of stealing it away. 

“I was quite surprised myself.” Angela responded as politely as she could. “The miracle of medical science and technology.” 

Rizzo nodded along as he decided to walk with her. “Whatever you used on yourself, it saved your life, Doctor Ziegler.” He complimented her. “If that was your invention, I’m very impressed. It could save any man’s life.” 

“That is the hope, yes.” Angela said with a bit of a chuckle. “I hope, one day, no one will have to die from a battle again. That is what I am working towards.” 

He gave her shoulder a brief pat. “A courageous endeavor. Are you fully prepared for the mission? This isn’t a scouting mission. Surely, Captain Amari warned you of it.” 

Angela nodded. “Yes. It’s a tactical assault on a local hideaway. We’re one of four teams of five going in head first on the mission. I’m your medical back up should you need it.” She summarized the explanation, and he nodded for her again. 

“That’s perfect. Stay close to us this time, and we all should get out of this perfectly safe. Don't you agree?” Rizzo explained, finally getting onto the transport. 

Another nod as she shifted to her seat, glancing around at the team. She earned herself a little wave from one of the other team members before everyone else settled into their places. Angela herself had a bit of a stiff sigh before throwing her pack off and ensuring she was strapped to the seat properly. Even without a response, Rizzo continued on, saying something pertaining to the mission to the rest of the team, but things oh so insignificant to her. All Angela could do really at that moment was focus on the vials of Nanites she had placed inside her pack, and the ones currently swimming in her body. That, and how her body ached to be outside already, be it on another touchdown or out on the battlefield, and they hadn’t even taken off yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah i don't have many words. I'll get off this internal conflict sooner rather than later. BUT for now, enjoy wondering how this fight is gonna go cause I'm not sure if i want to write it in or not. We'll see later on. I hope you guys enjoyed! 
> 
> Comments and Suggestions are always welcome, thanks again for reading!
> 
> edit: OH YEAH HAPPY MEAN GIRLS DAY OR WHATEVER


	10. The Drawing Board

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela contemplates and brainstorms ways to administer her nanites, and has a dilemma in the progress of things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I'm not dead I promise. Just busy with work! I wrote part of this on my 30-minute breaks, so hopefully, everything is still alright! Enjoy <3

Angela slumped back into the seat. After five hours, and one critical condition comrade, she was spent. As was the rest of her team as the dropship filled with her teammates, and the critical condition beside her on a stretcher beside her. Completely out cold, wounds healing slowly but surely. The Nanites were skilled at their job, doing exactly what they were made for. And yet, Angela felt as if this could have been better. There had to be some better way to do it all. Quicker, more efficient, anything to prevent moments like these. Not that Angela minded having to watch over a stretcher of course, and keep their blood pressure and heart rate in mind to ensure they weren't fading, it was her job. 

But so were quick fixes and anything of the sort. She was a trauma doctor, or at least she was. Now of course, in moments like these, even if the mission was a success, she felt like nothing but an inexperienced field medic, doing little for her self-esteem and confidence in saving her team. For once, Angela did feel out of place, almost as if she wouldn't catch up with the rest. 

Sensing her troubles, Rizzo had come to sit by her. This time it felt less creepy and more open. The odd benefits to having nearly died in front of someone. 

"You taking this alright, Doctor?" He asked her curiously, keeping his physical distance for now. 

Angela didn't jump, she noticed a lot more things since her training, and Rizzo had slid in through the corner of her eye. "Just fine, lieutenant," Angela responded softly. "Contemplating, I suppose." 

"A big brain like yours must have too many things to think about…" he responded to her. "Care to share?"

She bit her lip but didn't refrain. "I'm thinking… if there could be faster ways of administration." She mused to him. "Not through needles, that wouldn't quite solve the problem of physical wounds on external parts of the body. But if I could… construct something to easily carry my Nanites and dispense them. It would be easier than just throwing vials down at someone." Angela explained; albeit she wasn't quite sure if Rizzo would follow. 

Quite to her prediction, when she looked up at him, he seemed a tad confused, if not just blank. "How would administering them just through the vial not be enough?" He asked, clearly not getting Angela's sense of urgency. 

"If I had a trigger or something to squeeze to let it out, it would be easier," Angela said simply and looked at her hands. Carefully. The vivid memory and feeling of filling herself with the Nanites doing little to produce another solution. In fact, she felt more and more guilty the more she thought about it. It wasn't even just the fact of getting the Nanites administered quick enough, but also if she didn't get to someone fast enough. Both things were a damper on the actual time it took for her to get to someone once she responded. Angela did not do well sitting and waiting like the rest, she found. Running with the rest and following into the thick of it all… It almost felt like being home, in the pit with her coworkers, jumping to save lives at the drop of a hat.

But of course, nothing would feel like home anymore.

Rizzo seemed to be thinking along side her. "Maybe you could think of it over dinner?" The grin he wore as she faced him made it obvious it was a joke, and she cracked a smile. 

"Flirt," Angela responded as she shoved him away playfully, fighting a smile her own self. Even if she could tell it was a joke, it lifted her spirits more than it should have. Still, she needed to contemplate her solution further. 

A spray, huh?

\--- ---

Her critical condition patient was stable in the Medical Wing in one of the private rooms, very similar to what Angela had been in not three or so weeks ago. With other nurses and doctors watching over him, she left her combat gear in her medical office before departing for the lab. The sooner she got her thoughts down on paper (or, rather, a board) the easier it would be to formulate something rather than try and rest on it. A rough idea was better than nothing. 

It was quite into the afternoon, O'Deorain was still present. But for the moment, Angela paid no mind. When the lives of others were at hand, she had quite the capability for ignoring everyone else altogether. Immediately she brought an orange marker to the mobile whiteboard closest to her desk, scribbling words and making small, messy sketches across it. She had a vague idea and kept a vauge sense of symbolism through her design. A staff, much like what was associated with the medical profession. Not only would it be a good symbol but if done right, Angela could carry it with ease, and not be burdened by trying to juggle a pack as well as her medical supplies. Well, if she even needed the rest of her supplies after this… 

A decent hour into rough sketches, ways to format the program necessary for it to work, the lab doors opened. Although it was just buzzing feed into her head for now. Muttering, humming something in German as a shadow looked over her. 

"An impressive amount of work you've accomplished since your return." 

Despite knowing the voice, knowing it would return, Angela still let out a soft "eep" of a noise as O'Deorain spoke, jumping slightly in the process. She turned to look at her lab partner, only to know and see the eyes weren't on her, but on her sketches. Of course. O'Deorain would never give her a half casual glance in a day. "I was just brainstorming ideas to carry and administer my Nanites easier for myself," Angela explained, gesturing with her marker. "The notes are in Swiss, I can-" 

"I don't need the translation, I understand the concept." Just as quick as her gratification seemed to appear, it was gone. "Although, I don't quite understand why exactly the design. A staff?" This time, her gaze was definitely settled into Angela's face, intense and questioning. Angela nearly shrunk at the gaze, if not for being used to the scrutinization for now. 

She cleared her throat to assert herself. "Like the staff images you see associated with medical services and personnel," Angela explained. 

O'Deorain thought about it, or she seemed to. Glancing over the board again she raised an eyebrow. "... Simple on the surface. But you're no simple doctor." She didn't ask further. "... Interesting." 

Angela nodded, and without further input she went back on her notes, glancing over everything again, Incase O'Deorain had decided to say something of an error. Yes, the notes were in Swiss, but that didn't mean she couldn't spot a flaw in the design regardless. She had a particular interest in finding flaws with Angela's work quite often. 

Just as she was trying to spot something that could be in error, O'Deorain interrupted her thoughts again. "You know, it's going to have to be quite big to handle what you're going to do with it." She said with little care. "You'd have to work out harder to be able to carry it constantly on the field, should you be truly interested in becoming everyone's guardian angel." 

She blinked as O'Deorain strode back to her desk, saying nothing more on the matter. It did get Angela thinking, wiggling her marker in her hand as she lightly chewed her lip. Guardian angel, huh? 

\--- ---

The weeks passed, as did the progress and Angela’s deep curiosity into her study on a way to keep her nanites portable. She was almost through developing another update to the nanites, hopefully one that would do well with control administration. Or at least, wouldn’t be blending with the mechanics that it needed to bleed through in order to actually spread as a mist. That in itself was half the battle. The other half…

O’Deorain suddenly stared at her, one day. 

And she didn’t stop. 

Angela could feel the mismatched gaze heavily on her back the entire day, one way or another. The feeling it wrought, felt like she was being judged. 

After some time, Angela was convinced that O’Deorain had found out what she’d done.

Her blood. The nanites. She had been discreet, hadn’t she? 

But… Maybe O’Deorain had cameras installed that Angela didn't know about? Perhaps she saw the whole thing? 

Or perhaps Angela was foolish about her being unwise to Swiss German by now. 

The anxiety had Angela bubbling by that point. Bouncing her leg absentmindedly, tapping her pen to her desk as she fought for more rough drafts. Overwhelming until her resolve cracked. 

She stood up in such a rush, O’Deorain barely had a moment to try and ask her what her problem was before she was already halfway out the door, letting it shut abruptly behind her as she moved through the base. Over time she had learned schedules, and Jesse McCree had found his way to the Medical Wing a time or two. 

Number one, he smoked more often than O’Deorain. Number two, that time was _right now._

A short-tempered walk had broken her to a mild jog by the time she saw the door. She threw it open as quickly as she could, just to be greeted with fresh air and the smell of nicotine. The exact thing she was after. 

“Hey, Doc.” Jesse greeted cheerfully upon seeing her face, grinning while his cigarette burned. “Nice of you to visit.” 

“A cigarette, Jesse.” 

“Huh?” 

‘Please.” 

Jesse didn’t waste any time reaching in his pocket, retrieving a spare cigarette from the pack and lighting it for her. 

It took all of her strength to prevent herself from snatching it directly out of his hands. She took a deep drag of it before sighing quite audibly, leaning against the railing as she tried to calm the rest of her body. Angela glanced up through messy bangs at Jesse’s face, and she had to instantly turn away. “... Sorry.” She mumbled. “... I’m having a bad day.” 

“I’ll say,” Jesse responded by meeting her, leaning over the railing just the same. “What’s on your mind, little lady?” 

Angela gave him a glare that was only half threatening, but she said nothing otherwise as a response. She took another quick drag of the cigarette and flicked some of the ash off, staring at the ground and counting the grains. Respectfully, Jesse didn’t interrogate her further. It somehow seemed like he knew how to refrain from disturbing a sleeping bear. Angela was, for the moment, thankful. 

They sat in silence, all the way until Angela’s cigarette ran to the filter, and she had no choice but to finish it out on the pole beside her. Crumpling it in her fist, she shut her eyes and tried to focus. At least the jittery feeling stopped. “Jesse… Have you ever done something you weren’t supposed to?” She asked him.

The response she was met with was complete laughter. She turned to find him laughing, quite expressively, almost unable to breathe. He regained his composure before long, still chuckling quite a bit. “Doc, me doing things I wasn’t supposed to is how I got here.” He grinned.

She scowled at him and turned her head, hugging herself in the process. “Not… Not law-breaking! I meant… Something you _aren’t_ supposed to do.” She recoiled even more than before, digging her nails into her arms to secure herself. 

After another moment, Jesse did calm down and he leaned back against the railing properly. “Sorry, sorry. Something that's morally wrong, I’m guessing.” Jesse responded, and Angela gave a brief nod. “Well. It depends on what kind of morals you got.” 

Angela turned her gaze, examining his face. “... Such as…?” 

“Well,” Jesse turned to lean against the rail on his back rather than hang over it. “There's people who connect morals with the law, and people who think morals have all to do with religion and what’ll get you into heaven and… y’know, stupid shit.” Jesse shrugged. “For me, It has something to do with… gentleman's rules. A man’s gotta have rules.” 

Now he was really starting to confuse her. Damn Americans… “Such as…?” Angela asked curiously, raising an eyebrow. 

“Such as being improper around a lady who you don't know, or who’s uncomfortable,” Jesse said. “Or, y’know, shooting someone who’s unarmed. Raping someone, hurting someone who ain’t deserving of it.” Jesse shrugged again. “... Basic human decency, really. But somehow in this world, people forgot basic human decency, and now it's treated like some sort of God-given blessing.” 

Angela hummed then, her shoulders sinking as she thought about it. “... Aren’t society’s rules occasionally a factor?” She asked, feeling that pit consume her still. The guilt, what she had done… O’Deorain’s stare. 

“Not if the rules dictate you can do stupid shit for stupid reasons,” Jesse responded. “Killing someone just ‘cause of how they look or who they love. That’s fucking stupid. I’m a lawbreaker as much as any other, but that’s just 'cause some things in this world really ain’t right. ” He shook his head, staring up into nothing now as he seemed mildly emboldened. “As far as I’m concerned, if what you’re doin is good in the long run, fuck what the official ‘rules’ “ He put up air quotes to accentuate this. “Say. At the end of the day, if you’ve ruined a biggot or helped a beggar, I say you’re all fine.” 

She glanced down at the ground yet again, still digging at her arms, unable to stop. His words did help, just a little. Made her think, even. Even if O’Deorain had somehow found out… Was it really so wrong? Perhaps it was, in a certain way… She shut her eyes tight, trying to ignore the feeling. The feeling of wretched guilt and emptiness that threatened to swallow her whole, to make her break down right then and there in front of… of… some stranger she hardly knew. That was just another thing, Wasn’t it? The hurt almost made her hiccup. 

Almost.

“I’ve got to go” Jesse’s voice disrupted her conflict just for a brief moment. “Commander won’t be too happy if i keep extending breaks like this. See ya around, Doc.” 

Angela opened her eyes. “Jesse…?” she said quietly as he started to leave. She didn’t have to look at him to know he paused to turn at her. “... If I pay you back later, will you buy me a package of… whatever you have?” 

She could practically hear the stupid smirk on his face. “I’ll bring you an extra pack next time I see you.” He said cheerfully before finally opening the door. 

The thud of it closing signified Angela’s solitary, and somehow that made everything worse. Jesse wasn’t the brightest bulb, and he was quite vulgar at times, but he did have a point. 

It was just unfortunate the Point didn’t coincide with what exactly Angela needed help with. 

She sunk to the floor, pulling her knees to her chest as she focused on everything around her, the air, the sounds of the ocean beyond the walls and tiers of the base. And, of course, the thud of her heartbeat in her ears as she really closed herself off, thinking and debating, feeling her guilt seep further at quite the inopportune time. 

Eventually, although she dreaded it, she got up from her curled state. She had barely noticed the tears that did fall from her eyes, pooling on her cheeks. She wiped them away with her labcoat and made her way back inside, stuffing her hands in her pockets. Every step she fought to not turn around and run back outside. Or worse, run and catch up with Jesse for just one more. 

She didn’t. She refrained. She held her resolve until she was back in her lab, the stale air stiffening her lungs as she once again felt those eyes on her, but not from the right side of the room. 

From the left. 

O’Deorain had looked up from what seemed to be Angela’s designs, and her heart caught in her throat. “Making decent progress on the little… staff project of yours.” She noted dully, making her way from Angela’s desk back to her own. 

The absolute dread Angela felt, how hard her heart thumped in her chest. It hurt. Everything hurt, and her throat was dry. “I…” She couldn’t even speak for fuck’s sake! “Th...Thank you, Doctor O’Deorain.” 

She sat down at her desk, raising her gaze to Angela once more. With their eyes locked like that, Angela could have sworn she was picking apart her very soul and judging her for damnation. “At least make a note to close your laptop before you leave, Ziegler.” O’Deorain said, quite deadpan as for the first time, she notably returned to her work. 

Angela had to force herself from running across the room. She made her stride back and glanced over her desk, her papers, and the file left open, in _English_ of her work. 

But thankfully, nothing was disturbed. Or at least, Angela thought so. Perhaps O’Deorain just didn’t want to bother her while she was working…? If this was her way of getting Angela’s attention, it was a piss poor one. 

… At least she was kind enough to leave her own additional sketch atop Angela’s own of the nanite staff in progress, instead of just scribbling over her work this time. 

The notes, however, were still in untranslatable Gaelic scribble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Caduceus Staff drawings and guilt from self-experimentation, hooray! Hopefully, this strange update was alright for you all. We'll get to Moicy closeness eventually since I have realized this has been EXTREMELY Angela centric for a while. We'll get there. 
> 
> Thank you all for reading if you did and comments and suggestions are always welcome!


	11. Past The Clouds; The Descent Continues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela's next batch of nanites is ready, and not only is she updating herself, but she gets a chance for a field test.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya! Hopefully, yall enjoy this update, it's a little out of sorts but it should show a little more softness to others around Angela. A break from Moira's coldness. Anyway! I've got work, enjoy this piece as part of NaNoWriMo!

The sketches for the staff came and developed, Angela opted to attempt to use the carbon fiber look of many of the Overwatch soldiers into her design. It was them who she was ultimately working to protect, even if every mission sent her gut twisting in a million different ways that she hated. The fights grew more and closer together, more blood spilled, and every once in a while, a life Angela just could not salvage. Actually, it was more often than Angela would ever admit to someone to ask her personally, but yet the score was still positive enough that she continued to be sent. 

This had been the first time since her initial break with Jesse outside, O’Deorain’s first scribble that wasn’t an insult to her entire being, that she had a week break from being on the field. Even so, Angela was still drained, the time away from the lab slowing her progress down considerably. That was why now, in the early hours of the morning as she could not sleep, she held a sketchbook in her hands refining the smaller, minute details of the staff. How the internal workings would fit together, how it would trigger, pump the nanites… All she needed was the updated program. 

Angela had set a timer to when it would be finished. She was waiting for it. 

Once that update was ready, she would be able to test it in a small mechanical trigger object to dispense it. If a decent amount of the nanites sprayed out didn’t immediately integrate with the object they were supposed to spray from, Angela would call it a mild success, among other things. 

Only half of a successful trial, anyway. 

She already had what she called a “prototype” set up in her end of the lab, it just needed the nanites to work. 

The timer was open on her phone, face down, while she sketched in bed. All she needed was Ana’s approval on the matter, should her trial runs prove successful. It was refined, required a few extra tubing, and a fine needlepoint to properly dispense without becoming an overbearing spray. At first, she even laughed at the design, but she was still a doctor… perhaps someone would find it ironic and humorous how it looked like a syringe in her sketches. 

At some point, the timer went off, making Angela jolt up in her bed. The only problem with the timing of the program is she needed to be faster than O’Deorain upon exiting. 

She needed to run the trial, get the Nanites to spray out of the ‘prototype’, and run to her room with another sample, provided the first test worked out. All she needed was to avoid her. That was it. 

Simple. 

Angela gathered herself up, snagging her lab coat and ID card before she headed out of her room. Her heartbeat heavily in her chest as she couldn’t help a smile slip wide across her face, feeling the intensity of her project grow on her as she grew closer. 

The anxiety started to twist and eat at her, telling her that someone would know what she did. It was all she could do to ignore that piece of herself and push through the lab doors, just in time to hear her computer make the small notification noise she had left on. The program uploaded, nanites buzzing in their container, and the small mechanical prototype off to the side consisting of an Erlenmeyer flask, some tubing, and a mechanical trigger, the piece Angela was sure to get hung up on. 

After she slid her phone into her coat pocket, she filled up the flask with a decent portion of nanites, setting it back into her little prototype set up and securing the top airtight. The nanites vaguely glowed as they moved around, Angela found it quite… interesting in the least. They hadn’t glowed quite like that before. A mildly noteworthy development. 

After getting it all securely fastened, Angela went and pulled an item from a drawer of her desk, a box cutter she had found elsewhere in the lab. Why O’Deorain needed a box cutter, she had no clue. 

Very simply, Angela inflicted a small wound across her palm, hissing slightly at the stinging pain. Nothing more intense than needle punctures, however. After putting her freshly injured hand in front of the nozzle, Angela used her other to pull the trigger and activate her little prototype. There was a fair amount of input lag, but eventually, the nanites came in a soft, refined mist, something she’d describe similar to a mister outside of a restaurant… if it was mere inches from her hand. All she gave it was a brief, five-second spray. 

Not only did it seem the Nanites did not cling to any part of her prototype mechanism, but within a few minutes, her hand was completely sealed with no visible note of injury. This time. That was also something worth noting. External nanites in small doses did not seem to leave as large of an impact, unlike the injury on her side. A small spark of joy lifted her at the revelation. 

With that piece of her test complete, Angela quickly filled a few vials up with her Nanites solution to take with her. Obviously now, she needed to see if these Nanites could reprogram others. And the best way to do that was to repeat her same notion from a few months ago. Take the vials, make an IV, give it to herself over time. Simple. The only thing that she needed to do was slip by O'Deorain and she would be home free. She already slipped the IV materials into her room over time the days past, just in preparation for this moment. Quickly, Angela shoved her vials into her pockets, holding onto them tightly as she started off as a run from her lab. With hope, O'Deorain wouldn't be there. She wouldn't. 

Right as Angela meant to open the door, it moved seemingly on its own. She jumped back as the figure of O'Deorain barely managed to avoid stepping into her in the process. She vaguely looked up from her tablet and cocked an eyebrow up. "Leaving already, Doctor Ziegler?" 

Angela felt her heart slam heavily in her chest as she fought to find words. "I… yes." Her hands squeezed tightly around the vials she had. "I came to check on my progress… I need to go retrieve something from my room and go to the Medical Bay." She tried offering as her excuse. 

She felt O'Deorain's gaze weigh on her, scanning her every muscle… and yet, she had nothing to say. O’Deorain merely rolled her eyes and stifled a scoff as she forced her way past Angela. “Well don’t let me get in the way of your progress.” She said, her tone quite snide as she glanced over her shoulder. “Wouldn’t want to keep any patients waiting for their guardian angel.” 

For a brief moment, Angela found it in herself to huff at the silly little comment, even as she turned tail and started her way to her room, breaking out into a run after the doors shut behind her. Even if she was slightly paranoid of O’Deorain finding out of her true activities, she was still infuriating as a person. Perhaps Jesse would be reliable and stick to his schedule, too. 

Nevertheless, Angela made her way to her living space, shutting and locking the door to the majority of the base. Everything was in her hands, everything under her control. 

Time for round two. 

\--- --- --- 

Angela’s anxiety didn’t hit nearly as hard as last time, because she already knew she would get away with it. Was there anything for her to really get away with, she pondered, laying on her bed as her body adjusted to the new material within. If she was feeling like exaggerating her point, she would have said she could even feel the program updating in her bloodstream, but she couldn’t. That was just the hyperawareness of her actions. 

Two full vials of Nanites in her bloodstream, bonding with her biology, adapting as she programmed them to. 

How science was truly a fascinating miracle in its own right. 

She almost felt like dozing off, since she was more relaxed this time than the previous. A buzzing off to the side made her senses light up almost like a fire, particularly because of the clattering against the glass. 

Her pager. 

Angela shot up from the bed as quickly as she could, lunging for her lab coat draped over the desk chair, and pulled the small device out. It was touch screen, almost like a small phone, but the message displayed clearly. 

**E-RETURN - STRIKE TEAM A**  
DOCTOR ZIEGLER REPORT TO DOCKING BAY 1  
ETA - 2 MINUTES 

Something Angela knew how to do. 

Throwing her lab coat on, she raced out the door, nearly body-slamming someone in the process as she ran. The adrenaline flooded her within mere seconds and she was smiling bright, just as if she had been back in Zürich. The days competing with other interns, then residents shortly after for the privilege of getting to take the first case. Being fascinated with the carnage from careless, reckless behavior, or an accident. Excited. 

Maybe the Nanites just had a tendency to amplify her current emotions… 

Regardless, Angela found herself in the first docking bay, just as her pager instructed. The vials she had filled earlier, sans one, clacked in her pocket as she came to a stop behind safety lines, watching as the ship itself came to dock in the bay. She was the first to rush up to the opening door, even as other medics hung back. The first thing she saw was Ana, arm in a sling, stepping her way out of the ship. Jack came next, practically uninjured as Angela examined his exterior, helping pull an oversized gurney off of the ship with a few other soldiers. 

Reinhardt’s armor was in pieces on the inside, Angela could barely see it in the pile, and his condition on the gurney made her heart sink. “Reinhardt!” 

No response to her call and Angela put away her personal feelings. She rushed to meet with Jack, running by his side as she took hands to the gurney as well. “What’s happened?” Angela asked him, voice bordering on the edge of frozen cold. 

“Wilhelm took the brunt of the damage for us,” Jack explained, casting a glance to Ana that she saw out of the corner of her eye. “It was an overwhelming attack. But it was the last ambush of the battle as we tried to retreat. We were hoping that you’d have something for him.” 

“Me?” Angela asked curiosity, not looking back as she guided them to the Medical Bay. “You mean my work.” 

“Yes.” Jack’s response was quite stiff as she pushed them along, eventually situating Reinhardt in an individual patient room. 

For the moment, she chose to ignore it. “Is anyone else injured like this?” She asked as she immediately pulled her stethoscope from her other, free pocket. As she examined the man before her, she saw Jack back away with some careful ease. Soldiers gave way to other medical personnel, aiding in Angela’s examination. 

That was the first negative response from him. “No, Ana’s arm was only dislocated, but she said you had something that could help. Your… Your,” 

Angela scowled. “Nanites” She responded as she finally backed away enough. She paid no mind to Jack from then on as she looked over Reinhardt’s form again, pulling a vial from her pocket. There were shrapnel tears through his forearm and shoulder, and a gash on his side. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she was impressed that he had stayed this stable. But with some loud direction from Ana, even a fool could patch someone up with relative ease. 

Without another thought, Angela began her true work, starting out by pulling a vial from her pocket. 

\--- --- --- 

Within the hour, Reinhardt was perfectly stable, with relatively few stitches. The nanites had sewed up most of the small injuries, and the ones that did need stitches would have been healed within the next hour or so, Angela theorized. The speed of her work had already surprised her, and she was off to the side of the bed, keeping tabs on Reinhardt’s condition, as well as how quickly the nanites repaired skin on an external plane on a variety of injuries. 

It brought her special satisfaction and enough of a distraction from her own body. 

Eventually, with IV fluids and a transfusion, Reinhardt had begun to make noise, stirring from his position on the bed. He groaned a little, undoubtedly sore from the damage he took from the fight. Angela stood and watched over him, just enough and observing his condition. “Hello there.” She smiled lightly. “How are you feeling, Reinhardt?” She asked. 

It took him another moment or two before he could really look up, glancing at Angela and squinting before he tried to put up a smile. “Ah, Angela…” He tried his hardest not to sound pained, even if he was. “You patched me up, Didn't you?” 

Oddly enough, she relaxed further into a deeper smile. “Yes, I did.” 

With a bit of difficulty, Reinhardt got himself to sit up a bit and look at her properly. “Thank you, Angela. I appreciate it.” He said kindly, rubbing his forearm gently. “Did anyone else need your help?” 

Angela shook her head quickly, sitting in the chair by his bedside after her glance over was finished. “Nein. Just you. What happened out there?” Angela asked out of curiosity. One of her favorite things was finding out what had caused the damage to begin with. Sometimes people in the pit would spill the stories to her, sometimes they’d ease it out through lies. Angela couldn’t really place why she enjoyed the backstory so much, but part of it might’ve just been the personal aspect of learning about her patients. “... If you don't mind me asking, of course.” She decided to add. 

“Well…” Reinhardt cleared his throat briefly. “We were under ambush from a rather agressive group of omnics near their primary campgrounds, and they had brought a larger quantity of soldiers than expected; a large omnic that had far more firepower than the rest. Commander Morrison called for a retreat, and I stood and covered them as they moved back to the ship.’ He seemed all too proud as he was explaining his story. “Once my shield broke, they tore through some pieces of my armor.” 

“Some?” Angela tried to stifle a chuckle back as she glanced at where the bandages still were. “I think it would be more like half… or a good third.”

Reinhardt broke up in his own fit of laughter, even if he groaned some afterward. “Nothing a little bit of your medicine can fix, isn’t that right?” 

A small blush covered her face, but she still smile. “You flatter me, Reinhardt. But yes, I’ll always be here to heal you if you need a patch up.” She assured. 

Although for a reason she couldn’t describe, Angela felt a small pang in her chest that spread across her body, and settled in her gut. After a mere moment or two, she understood just what the feeling was. She smiled wider to try and cover up her mild anxiety now that it reared its head again. It seemed Reinhardt had hardly noticed. “When can I get up and moving again Angela?” he asked curiously as he tried to stretch himself lightly. “I’ve got armor to repair!” 

She shook her head at his eagerness but had no trouble responding. “Give it a few hours, and you should be able to at least move without trouble. I do want to come back and observe you before you do leave, just to ensure my treatment is working right.” 

Reinhardt seemed to beam at the answer. Hell, this man seemed to be overconfident and cheerful no matter the condition or event. And loud. It was definitely something Angela enjoyed keeping to heart whenever she talked with him on the rare occasion, whenever she was feeling just a little too homesick and needed a little piece of comfort to help her. Anything that he could offer her as a friend, and comfort, even if their dialects weren't the same, still warmed Angela's heart. "That's wonderful, Angela! You really think I'll be fully healed by then?" 

"Of course." She nodded. "Just please, let me check you out before you leave today. It's very important. Checkups and all." 

He didn't seem to protest despite his eagerness to leap from the bed and get to work right then and there. Almost like he knew it wouldn't be that easy to escape her watchful eye. "You got it. Thank you again for everything,"

She merely smiled at him, nodding her understanding. “Any time, Reinhardt. I’ll check on you in a little bit.” Angela said kindly, squeezing his arm with some soft assurance before leaving the room. Without his kindness and distraction, the anxiety welled up in her again, stronger than before. 

She found her way to her office within the Medical Bay, taking not only Reinhardt’s chart but a few notes she had scribbled elsewhere on the side, and pulled herself up to the computer situated at her desk. She opened a few files, organized the paper file on Reinhardt into the electrical one situated across the Overwatch base, should it need to be accessed by anyone other than herself, then filed the papers away in the cabinet beside her.

Shortly thereafter, Angela pulled up her notes she had been taking off to the side as Reinhardt slowly recovered. Notes on not only his condition but her own as well. How the Nanites swayed and affected her emotions or her thinking after a fresh round… even now she still felt the guilt tug at her. But the psychological results were only half of the study Angela was invested in; hell, they weren’t even the main focus. 

It was the physical aspect. Angela just needed a way to test it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys all for reading if you did, let me know if there's any problems. Comments and Suggestions are ALWAYS welcome from everyone <3


	12. Field Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela gets an inopportune chance to test how well her nanites can really heal; much to the disappointment of many others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo! I busted this whole ass chapter in one sitting, in one night, I hope you guys don't mind how it flows. :V

Angela’s wish for a way to test her new dosage of Nanites to herself came much sooner than she could hope for. Since Ana herself was out of commission for the next few weeks due to a dislocated shoulder, it seemed she had recommended Angela for the next ‘Strike Team’ mission. Information that was delivered to her no more than three days later as she typed away a report on Reinhardt’s condition. 

“Surely…” Angela was trying to stay calm as Ana stood before her, smiling proudly with her arm still in the sling. “There's some other, more experienced Medic for the job? Don't you ever have anyone to replace you if you get hurt?” 

“Well of course,” Ana responded, casual as if it were merely the weather and not a request to possibly risk Angela’s life. “But Jones is also out on extended leave. You’re the next best candidate to follow with Jack and the rest.” She said. 

Still, Angela was quite convinced, nibbling the inside of her lip as she glanced briefly past Ana, directly at O’Deorain. Even from this distance, Angela could tell she was withholding a snicker. That sort of expression on her face lit a fire that Angela didn’t even know she had kindled. It felt like a challenge, even from this distance. How minuscule her expression change was. Angela couldn’t stand it. She held back her own soft scowl and returned her gaze to Ana’s (now very sharply intrigued) face. “... What about O’Deorain?” She said instead. “Isn’t she also listed as a Combat Medic?” 

Angela could see out of the corner of her eye how sharply O’Deorain had looked up. She only smirked as she continued. “She is an older member, with more experience!” 

“I’m a scientist, Doctor Ziegler,” O’Deorain called from the other end of the room. “I work for progress. Not to sustain it.” 

Ana snapped her head to glare at O’Deorain, perhaps a silent motion for her to hold her tongue before she turned the glare to Angela, a slightly disapproving look in her eyes. “Angela, I know you don’t like being exposed to the violence.” She started off. “But the reports you’re giving me on your Nanite progress, and how well they did on even Lieutenant Wilhelm, your nanites will help you in whatever skills on the field you do lack if any at all. Beyond that, Lieutenant Rizzo has been telling me good things about how you respond with his team, and how well you handle your injured. I think a step up is necessary, and it is a very good chance to show Commander Morrison just how good of an asset to Overwatch you truly are.” 

She had tried her hardest not to grimace, Ana was absolutely right. Damn her for being so … so good at her actual job of healing people. “Ana, please.” Angela almost sounded quite pathetic. “I don't think I can do it. In such an intense mission, I’m going to have to fight too!” 

“Exactly,” Ana responded. “I’ve trained you to shoot, you’ll be fine if you get cornered.” 

Angela couldn’t accurately describe how the thought of shooting someone wanted to make her sick. Would it even be someone? Or just an Omnic? Regardless, pointing the muzzle at something other than a paper target at the end of a large room was not her preferred activity. “You aren’t giving me a choice, are you?” Angela asked quietly. 

Ana merely shook her head. “No. It’s an order, I just didn’t want to come off too rude to you.” She said, nodding at her own words. “They leave at 0600 in the morning to the next assignment, I’ll be letting Commander Morrison know you’ll be joining them.” 

She sighed heavily as Ana made her way from the lab, leaving the doors in a proud of a manner as she had entered not too long ago. AS the doors shut, Angela let her head hit the desk as she let out a heavy groan. “Verdammt!” 

“Bold of you to try and argue with Captain Amari.” O’Deorain chipped from the other end, now much more reserved. “Not a wise decision to make, Ziegler.” 

“**I don’t even want to debate with you, you limp noodle.**” Angela grumbled her quite childish response, pushing herself up shortly after and casting a glance to her half-finished prototype structure on the far side of the room. It looked nothing like the final product, hell, it wasn’t even fit for any other testing beyond stationary. She wouldn’t be able to bring that with her out on the mission. 

Thankfully, as she tried to piece her thoughts together, O’Deorain had kept her mouth shut. The very last thing she needed was her snarky comments making her even more infuriated with her current predicament than before… Great. 

She needed a damn cigarette. 

\--- ---

05:50 almost on the dot, Angela was down in Docking Bay 2, Combat Medic pack over her shoulders and her emergency light pistol strapped to her thigh. She hated the feeling of it, but knew it was necessary for this sort of mission. If she didn’t have protection, she would get hurt, and she would possibly not come back. At least… that’s what her thoughts were used to telling her. 

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she thought it was nearly perfect; the best way to test her injections in a real-life scenario. If she was stupid enough to get shot, anyway. 

As she stepped closer to the ship, Reinhardt had turned, grinning from ear to ear with his helmet off. The rest of his armor was almost perfectly intact; save for a few new scratches along the sides. “Angela! You’ll be joining us on this mission, yes?” 

Angela couldn’t help but giggle just lightly. “Ja, Reinhardt. I’m with you.” She responded, stepping closer. Any presence that included his made her stay that much more comforting. “Until Captain Amari can resume duty.” 

A rather gruff sounding ‘humph’ came from the side, and Angela had to turn and tilt herself quite dramatically to see past Reinhardt’s large form. “Great, another rookie to screw it up even more.” 

“Torbjörn!” Reinhardt was loud and proudly proclaimed his offense. “Angela is no mere rookie, she’s a doctor!” 

Another sound of offense came from the short, blonde man that Reinhardt had talked to, Torbjörn, Angela figured. He seemed quite gruff, agitated, and… was that a prosthetic? Or just a means for his work? She couldn’t tell. “She’s new to me, so that’s new enough.”

“Lindholm, there’s no need to disrespect Doctor Ziegler.” Jack’s voice was very clear from the other end of the Docking Bay as he made his way over, in more befitting combat gear than the last time Angela had seen him. “She’s here to act as a medic until Captain Amari is healed. It’s only for a few missions” He explained. 

Even with Jack’s input, it did little to improve Torbjörn’s mood or his outlook. “Just keep her away from me.” He said strongly, loading himself up onto the dropship. Angela tried her hardest not to let herself be put down by the disgruntled thought… after all, she was still a doctor, not a soldier. Of course she didn’t belong here. 

Evidently, her mental war was clear to Reinhardt, who placed a large, armor-clad hand over her shoulder. “**Don’t worry my dear, he doesn’t even like me half the time**” Reinhardt spoke slow, and Angela nodded along to the words. 

At least someone here had some faith in her. “Danke, Reinhardt.” She smiled at him, watching as he made his way into the dropship now as well. She was going to follow, if not for the paralyzing gaze she felt at her back. Carefully, Angela turned to face Jack, paling slightly in his stature. “Did… You need to talk to me, Commander?” Angela asked him sheepishly. 

He shook his head, only smiling. “Captain Amari has been talking up your Nanites. Let’s hope they hold to the test.” Jack said simply, leading the way into the ship… leaving Angela as the last one outside. She gripped the straps of her pack tightly before loading on with them, feeling her heart pound in her chest heavily. Nothing could prepare her for the next few hours, and she silently hoped her hindsight was enough to keep her alive if her wits were not. 

\--- --- --- 

Everything had gone about as smoothly as it could, seeing as Angela had no idea what she was expecting. 

There were hardly any injuries to start as they began their assault. To her understanding, Reinhardt hadn’t been in this elite strike team for very long, but Jack and Torbjörn had already moved with him in relative ease as if they all had known each other since infancy. A level of closeness Angela couldn’t fathom. 

They were safe, they were fine, and so far hadn’t needed any critical support… Which left Angela clinging to her emergency pistol as she frequently got left in the dust, not by their intention of course. It was only Angela’s inability to keep up with them… 

The cost of her being left behind so much, however, was the need to use her pistol more than she would have fancied. She hated the recoil, the feeling of each round, it made her shake and make it harder to catch up with the rest of the team. Every now and again, Reinhardt would have charged back to retrieve her, or at least cover her while they made their way back together. 

At some dense point, every moment had blurred together over time, Torbjörn had taken a careless shot to the thigh, and they had all retreated behind cover for the moment. 

He was grumbling, angry as ever as he had to sit still for Angela to briefly assess the injury. Entry wound and exit wound, not through any major arteries that she could tell… Angela held a bit of a smile as she pulled her pack in front of her. “Wipe that stupid grin off your face,” Torbjörn demanded of her after a few moments of being cared for. “Just because I got shot doesn’t mean you get to be smug.” 

“I’m not smiling because I see this as revenge,” Angela told him simply as she tied a tourniquet to slow the bleeding. “I’m smiling because I see this as progress.” 

Torbjörn eyed her as she moved, watching her pull out her vials next. “What am I to you, a science project?” He asked instead, every tone of accusation present. 

Angela shook her head, pouring a generous amount of her healing concoction over his bullet wound. “No. These Nanites aren’t in any testing phase.” Not for external application, Angela reminded herself. “Perfectly safe.” 

He continued to grumble off to the side, even as Reinhardt and Jack covered for them at the moment, just until Torbjörn was back on his feet. Angela promised them both it wouldn’t take long, and they both stared at his leg as slowly, the wound itself began to heal. Not nearly as fast as Angela would have fancied, but within a few short minutes, it was nearly like the wound wasn’t there to begin with. She held a bit of pride inside at her science, her work, how this could be done. 

But all it did was press in deeper that Angela needed to find an easier way to apply her healing. 

She helped Torbjörn to his feet, allowing them both to get back properly with the others. “How does it feel, Torbjörn?” Angela asked him curiously. 

He grumbled. “Like there’s a warm leech on my leg,” Torbjörn admitted openly, pulling his gun from his pack. “But it doesn’t hurt anymore.” 

“Good” Angela nodded firmly. “Maybe in return for my nanites, You could help me with something?” 

“Eh?” Torbjörn gave her a cross-eyed glance. “With what?” 

Angela almost beamed. “Schematics. For something to help expedite the healing process.” 

Torbjörn turned away, just to barely load a shot into a flanking Omnic that got behind Jack. “It’s too early to be calling in favors like that, Doc.” He said simply. “Try again in a few years.” 

She didn’t get a chance to respond, though she wished she could tell him thank you, as she ducked behind Reinhardt and held back a squeak. Heavier fire rained on them as Jack seemed to growl over the comms. “No luck today either on pushing forward. Back to the drop.” He commanded, almost with ease. 

Torbjörn was the first to heed orders as he lead the way, followed by Jack running behind him. Reinhardt swung around to find Angela behind him and he offered a hand. “Come on, Angela. We’ve got to go!” 

Angela leaped up, grasping his hand as tightly as she could with the size difference. Battle was no place for a Trauma surgeon, Angela had decided for the umpteenth time that day. That year, even; as the fire rained heavier over their heads and through the air. All she wanted to do was get back home and never be sent on this sort of mission again. Where everyone moves fluidly, she was always a burden. 

Her healing technology was a success, but was it really enough to keep her from dying from inexperience? 

Too many thoughts swirled in her head as they tried to make their retreat, Angela clinging to her breath as the others grew so much further ahead. Her lungs burned, and eventually it wasn’t even just those. 

She let out a high pitched cry as laser fire tore through her thigh, making her trip in the process from the medical pack she carried. The velocity she had at her run made her scrape against the rubble and slide to a stop, curling up as her thigh burned. Lasers, why did those tiny bastards have to be equipped with lasers? 

“Angela!” Reinhardt’s call was too far, or at least Angela thought it was. She pulled her pistol and aimed it at the bot that had the audacity to shoot at her, putting a few bullets into the small slicer’s own laser muzzle. The small boat toppled to the ground, and she tried to get up to escape. Tried. The very muscles going up her thigh were damaged, and warmth combined with the pain she felt told her that it wouldn’t be for very much longer… 

A few more omnics had closed in on her spot, and she shut her eyes to prepare for more injuries… Before Reinhardt’s hammer had connected with a few of them. She peaked her eyes open to get a visual to match the noise, seeing Reinhardt react in such a fit of rage was almost out of character. “Come on, Angela!” He encouraged, reaching out his hand again. This time, instead of merely helping her up, Reinhard had full-on picked Angela up, slinging her over his shoulder. She let out a particularly loud squeak at being manhandled, watching as Reinhardt practically charged away from the small scene she had caused due to her lack of speed or stamina. 

It didn’t take long for Reinhardt to get them back to the ship with Jack and Torbjörn, slightly inhuman in her opinion. Once they were inside and the doors began to close, Angela sighed a deep breath of relief even as the gunfire continued against the door. 

Reinhardt sat her down in a plush chair, allowing her to relax as he took a step back, surveying her. “Are you alright? Did you get hurt?” He asked, quite worried as Torbjörn and Jack looked in on her as well (Torbjörn’s gaze all the more intense and judgemental, Angela noted.) 

Angela looked carefully down at her torn clothing, although it hadn’t been too long since she took the injury, it didn’t quite look like she had gotten shot, but more like a deep scrape. She didn’t get a good look at it to begin with, but judging from the faint red outline around the torn fabric… Well, Angela only felt a glimmer of pride in her chest as she shook her head. “No. I tripped. That’s all.” She technically wasn’t quite lying. 

Satisfied with her answer, Reinhardt gave her a gentle pat before leaving her to her own devices, and she tried to get herself situated, ignoring the other three as best she could… well, if a certain Commander didn’t seem to have such eagle-eye focus on her.

Jack shook his head from the side, finally finding some reaction to the past few hours they spent infiltrating and in battle. He tried to approach Angela in as private a matter as he could, with Torbjörn and Reinhardt now off to their own devices, or at least Angela hoped so. “Doctor Ziegler, I highly recommend you put more time into physical training before you join our team again.” The tone of severe disappointment was evident as he stared her down. “We can’t keep falling back like that for you.” 

She clenched heavily at the seat she sat on, trying to find some comfort or purchase in the cushions. The guilt and anxiety from before welled in her throat as she tried to speak. “I told Captain Amari, I’m not a field medic, I-”

“I’ll say.” Torbjörn scoffed from the side, interrupting her without a thought. “Your medical tech is good. I’d stay in your lane if I were you.” 

“Stop it, Torbjörn” Reinhardt only half raised his voice, but not hearing that cheerful tone brought dread to all of them, Angela could feel it. “She’s not like any of us. We can’t expect her to perform like Captain Amari, or like any soldier actually trained for this.” 

Despite being touched by Reinhardt’s words, it was all she could do to drown out the rest of their conversation, or rather disagreement. She wasn’t made for battle, she wasn’t made to fight or defend… All Angela was good at was healing. Torbjörn was healed, and her leg was slowly getting better. Really, that’s all she cared for at the end of the day. The violence made her sick. The talk of how she should be more like a soldier even made her nauseated. Once the dropship was really moving, amidst the three men’s bickering, Angela jumped up and made her way to a trash can with little difficulty, throwing up in it almost immediately. Everything became white noise while she was sick, unable to think of anything else besides her body’s inherent misery. 

It was a damn shame she couldn’t smoke on the dropship…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NaNoWriMo is a bigger inspiration than I thought it would be for this fic, tbh. I've already gotten 6K out of this month for writing, so there's that. All it means is you guys get a lot more content from me! How exciting. Hopefully, you all are enjoying the slow progress as I am, even if Angela and Moira are still bitter, snarky assholes to one another. 
> 
> Don't worry, won't be that way for too much longer. (I hope.) Comments and Suggestions are always welcome you guys! Thank you so much for reading if you did. 
> 
> (EDIT: ALSO happy fuckin birthday to my HanaMercy Fic, A Valkyrie's Game. Shits 2 years old but lit, if you're a filthy multi-shipper like me, consider checking it out. THANKS)


	13. Dispute and Debrief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela gets a little too paranoid about her own experiments... especially as shes presenting them in a post-mission format.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! So at this point, I feel the need to expressly mention that from here on out content of this fic WILL be mildly questionable and I've upped the rating to M for now. I might end up going to E in later chapters, but for what i want to present soon, I need to up this now. So if you're a Minor and reading this, PLEASE tread CAREFULLY. Content past this point, or maybe the next chapter, Is more than likely not appropriate for you, this is the warning I'm giving you now. 
> 
> If you choose to proceed beyond a certain point in the future, that is YOUR decision, I HAVE warned you. I will warn you AGAIN when the time comes. 
> 
> We do still have a little bit to go before the questionable content starts, I just need to find the proper spot. Anyway, Enjoy!

Angela suffered through a long ride back to base, nursing her injured leg just out of sight from the rest. Funny how they were so eager on looking in on each other that no one checked up on the medic themselves… Maybe that's why there was no attention on Ana’s injured behalf until today. 

Her nausea subsided, written off as just being sick of how much violence she herself partook in for the day, and once they arrived back to base, Angela made her way straight to her bedroom. No need to hear any condescending comments from O’Deorain today, even if it was barely 16:00. She completely dressed down in the privacy of her room, getting a more comfortable shirt on before she went to examine her leg. 

The laser burn was completely healed by now after they had spent so much time flying back. It didn’t even hurt to walk that Angela had noticed. All of it was interesting in its own way, and she held little hesitation before she moved to her desk, turning on the lamplight and pulling her notes from her bag. Now was as good of a time as any to start the report on this batch of nanites… Lest she waits until tomorrow and forgets what the feeling in battle was like. 

Still, as she opened up her documents for further reports, she couldn’t help but think about what she could do to improve it, how to make the code faster… and furthermore, how it would work with her prototype. How to improve her ‘prototype’ would also be a good start… 

For a while, she was lost in writing her report, first in how her nanites had reacted with Reinhardt, then Torbjörn on the field. Just when she was starting to come up on her own observations, a knock on her door disrupted her work… Angela was about to give them permission to answer, before wistfully remembering she had omitted genuine pants in order to keep examining the injury to her thigh. “J-Just a moment!”

She scrambled to find her nightly wear sweatpants, pulling up just in time to open the door. Not to her surprise, Ana was standing there in her own comfortable clothing… perhaps retiring early for the night. “C-Captain.” Angela was suddenly as bolt upright as she could be. 

“Angela.” Ana nodded. “I heard about your mission. How are you feeling?” 

Angela looked down briefly to her leg, flushing darkly as she stuttered. “I… It. It went well. Torbjörn doesn’t seem to like me, a-and Commander Morrison-” 

“Was disappointed with your physical capabilities.” Ana noted.

“Yes.” Angela hung her head. “I… I tried to keep up with them, Ana, I just…” she fidgeted slightly with her hands, wishing she had something to distract her. Anything. “I’m _not_ a field medic.” 

Ana shrugged, leaning against the door frame on her good arm. “Not so much that you aren’t fit to be our combat medic, but Jack is… He’s hard to keep up with, even for me, after I had Fareeha.” Ana explained simply. “He’s also hard to please. But he did seem impressed with your healing technology.” 

That… brightened Angela’s concern. “Really?” She asked quietly. “... It seemed overlooked.” 

“Not at all.” Ana shook her head. “Torbjörn would have had to sit out for a few days waiting for that bullet wound to heal without it. And I heard something about you tripping?” 

Angela turned her side away from Ana, subtly, at the mention of her injury. “It… was an accident. I lost my footing.” Angela responded quickly. 

That only earned her a cocked up eyebrow and a gaze of accusation, and Angela quickly broke down after that. “I got shot, yes, but it's alright!” Angela assured, rolling the leg of her sweatpants up. The fabric strained, but she didn't mind, showing off the mended flesh to Ana with the soft golden scarring. It was still slightly tender, Angela knew that for a fact, but it was healed, much better than the slightly bloody mess that it was when she had taken the hit. 

Ana seemed to examine it from her point of view as well, thinking about it. “... Your nanites did well to heal it.” Ana sounded mildly impressed. “This was only a few hours ago, wasn’t it?” 

“Yes.” Angela nodded along, letting her pant-leg fall back down. “It's nearly fully healed. Amazing, isn't it?” 

She nodded, straightening herself up. “You’re gonna have to submit an after mission report and take part in the debriefing tomorrow,” Ana told her, back to a more official tone. “I think Jack would appreciate an overview of your work too.” She winked, and Angela felt herself heat from the embarrassment. The last thing she wanted to do was make a fool of herself in front of Jack Morrison, of all people. In front of whoever else needed to hear the debrief. 

Even so, Angela nodded. “Thank you for checking on me, Captain…” Angela said. “They didn’t seem too worried about my fall.” 

Ana seemed to wave it off but smiled anyway. “They always forget to look out for us medics. That’s why I came to check on you. Have a good evening, Angela.” She bid, nodding before turning away. 

The door shut before too long, and Angela held back a deep sigh. At least she wasn’t in any trouble for not sticking around and doing it afterward. Besides, if she needed to make a report for the mission, especially in front of Jack… She really needed to get a jump start on her document. 

The only problem was, what of her condition? Surely if she was presenting her research to higher-ups, she needed to include the other research she had been doing off to the side. Her self injections… Clearly, it had covered her injury on the battlefield, albeit with some difficulty. 

It didn’t take Angela very long to figure out how to word her research, her discoveries. All the while, she kept glancing at her thigh, even if she couldn’t see the injury anymore. She had to keep reminding herself to check on the healing process later… 

\--- --- --- 

Angela worked herself far into the night, barely sleeping as she wrote, formatted, and formatted her paper. It reached well into the night when she found herself finished with her work… with the exception of her leg. Damn, she had forgotten after all in the midst of everything. Not only that… Angela could have really used a shower. At least with how late it was, there was hardly a chance she’d run into anyone on her way down. 

Still, it didn’t mean she was particularly fond of communal facilities, even if Overwatch staff kept them relatively clean. 

Angela scraped up her shower belongings, grumbling at the extra pair of clothes she had to drag with her as well. It wasn’t that there wasn't any place to put them or anything shy of privacy around the base, she just hated the long walk. Half soaked and freezing cold, seeing as she was never a fan of blow-drying her hair. 

Once actually in the shower area, sure no one else was there, Angela stripped her sweatpants, glancing down at her thigh to really get a good look at the injury her nanites had healed for her over time. Just as she had anticipated it, the skin looked brand new, perfectly healed, and the only evidence that anything had happened in the first place was golden coloration. Similar to the injury to her side (That had only faded minimally over the course of several months…), but the gold was more evident. Almost as if someone had sprinkled glitter into her wounds. She briefly brushed her fingers over the skin, with no pain or sensitivity at all what so ever. 

A wave of pride came over her and she couldn’t help but smile, stripping herself afterward for an actual shower. She could admire her body modification later, should she desire… Among other things. 

If there was anything that could wash away the stress of looming commanding officers, and angry dwarves (Angela made the association hours ago, she couldn’t get it out of her head, even if it was particularly rude of her to do so), it was small slices of home. Honey shampoo and conditioner, the same she had used for years, always brought a relaxing scent… 

Her shower was short but soothing. There was only one thing she needed after all of that, and all the writing she did… hot chocolate. Why she suddenly had a craving for it in the middle of her shower, she couldn’t fathom. Perhaps it was a ‘self-care’ night, despite the late hour. 

Angela dressed in more comfortable pajamas, letting her hair drip dry as she made her way from the showers back to her room, dropping off her showering belongings before making her way to the kitchen. All she needed was a cup. That was it. She’d settled into her room and go to sleep after, she was sure of it. 

She threw the doors open, just to see a rather unexpected sight…

Someone was rummaging through the kitchen, tall and quite messy. For a moment, Angela found them to be a somewhat familiar stranger until they turned their head. Angela caught a glimpse of freckles and a red eye, and she let out a soft squeak. 

O’Deorain turned her head to glance at Angela, looking her up and down. “You hardly look like you’ve been sleeping.” O’Deorain made the knock off-comment, returning to her search amidst the cupboards. 

After regaining her mild sense of composure, the air tense and unforgiving, Angela cleared her throat. “I’ve been working,” She said, walking to the opposite side of the kitchen and grabbing a mug, turning back to glance at O’Deorain. She also looked like she was gearing for bed, in a slip of a tank top and her own plaid-patterned sleeping pants. That, and her hair was messy and ungelled… an unnatural look for her usually very professional demeanor. She swallowed what sense of insecurity she had before speaking again. “... What are you doing here this late?” 

She received a small scoff in return, a slam of a cabinet following shortly after. “Nothing you need to worry about.” O’Deorain half-heartedly snapped. “Simply for something I can’t find in my own room.” 

That vaguely told Angela she had enough space to hold some snacks… good for her. “I thought you said you had your own alcohol in your room.” Angela couldn’t help but made the snide comment, rolling her eyes as she searched shortly after for what she could scrape together for an informal hot chocolate. 

O’Deorain lightly growled; Angela could barely hear it due to her own shelf-shuffling. “If I had remembered to stock up after I ran out, I wouldn’t be searching for any here.” She responded. 

Angela rolled her eyes. “They don’t keep alcohol in the communal kitchen,” Angela responded quite promptly. “I’ve never seen any.” 

“That’s because…” O’Deorain took a moment to pause, Angela turned just to see her reach somewhere high, pulling a half-full bottle of what looked to be cheap liquor down. “... They don't want the short, young ones to find it.” 

“Oh haha.” She responded, shutting the cabinet after finding chocolate to melt. “Very funny, poking at my height like that. I’m average height, not that you’d know anything about average or normal, would you?” Even Angela had to admit, that was getting too bitter. Letting the internal vague conflict from their work bleed outside work hours… for no reason at all, other than O’Deorain’s very presence drove her insane by now. 

O’Deorain glanced at her, cocking an eyebrow up at her accusations. “I don’t think you’re in the right space to be insulting me, Doctor Ziegler.” 

Angela scoffed, starting up a pan for her drink. “We aren’t even on the clock. As far as I’m concerned I could strangle you if i wanted to. You infuriate me.” Angela didn’t find it in her to hold back. They weren’t in the lab, it was after hours, and they both should be asleep. And yet, something just. Riled her. Couldn’t be…? No, she’d been settled with them for a few days now. 

“You aren’t the easiest to get on with either, you know,” O’Deorain responded, and Angela could hear the distinct noise of a cap being pulled off a bottle. “You think I enjoy your presence in my lab? The way you mutter as you walk around, tatting to yourself in German and taking over part of my experimental space, your judgemental stares whenever I pull out the mice, or God forbid, the rabbits.” 

“They’re innocent animals!” Angela exclaimed. “Why we test on animals in the first place, I’ll never know. If its already dead and we use it for cadavers is one thing. But living tests?” She threw her arms over her chest, glaring at O’Deorain. She’d promptly put the bottle to her lips, intent on not returning the bottle back to its previous spot. “You’d test on humans if you could.” 

O’Deorain didn’t really confirm nor deny, only glare right towards Angela herself. Whatever kindling they had built for this long, clearly had turned into a wildfire. “You like to take yourself so high and mighty, don't you?” O’Deorain asked her curiously. “Merely because you’re a woman of medicine and I of genetics.” 

“What does that have to do with anything?” Angeal cocked an eyebrow up. She suddenly understood why she was being aggressive, to ignore her anxieties. She had nearly forgotten that O’Deorain encountered her on the way out the last time… “As far as I’m concerned, they’re connected, if not nearly the same in fundamentals.” 

“Of course.” O’Deorain said. “As far as _you’re_ concerned.” 

Angela held back a bitter growl and refused to pursue the conversation further. She didn’t want to find out this way if O’Deorain knew or not, it would be the end of her career if it came out now anyhow. After all, there was no way to know where the cameras were, and where they weren’t. Not only that, but Angela really didn’t want to find out what else was being done to those poor creatures locked up in O’Deorain’s lab. 

She hated it. 

After just a moment of their bitter, angry silence, O’Deorain seemed to turn to leave. “Maybe if you weren’t so afraid of the limits, you’d have better progress by now.” O’Deorain had said before quickly departing the kitchen with her acquired bottle. Angela merely broke angry pieces of chocolate, dumping them into her milk with a scowl. She was infuriating, every part about her. From the tall stature, the freakish sense of superiority, how matter of fact she always was. 

Angela shoved a piece of chocolate in her mouth to help quell her thoughts, before sputtering in disgust. 

“**Not Swiss… Disgusting,**” she grumbled. 

\--- --- 

Just as she had expected, Sleep never came for Angela. Even if she tried to relax with (terrible) hot chocolate, some reading, or even a glance at some other research cases, she didn’t catch anything. She was far to anxious from her conversation with O’Deorain, and even further from her presentation in the morning. Ana had sent her an email at 06:30, detailing what she needed to give an overview of and how it would be beneficial to display her work, regardless of what stage it was at in this very moment. 

Even with the forewarning, and all the examples of her progress that she could gather, she was also notified that seeing as O’Deorain had been acting as her supervisor, she would also be in the audience of her debriefing slash presentation. How she dreaded it, particularly after the argument they had. Was it really an argument, or just Angela letting some steam now that she had seen her? She knew it was just herself distracting from the anxiety of O’Deorain’s seemingly all-knowing conscious… 

Regardless of how the night went, what she got herself into, or the words she so bitterly spit to distract herself, Angela readied herself in her best attire, a knee-length pencil skirt, and a button blouse (with her lab coat over it all, of course). She had used these for board presentations, should she need to perform again. It seemed she would have to, several times over if she kept going on missions with Jack and he seemed to disprove of her physical prowess each time. 

Now in the conference room, a rather bold area, Angela had gathered her belongings, a few vials of her most recent Nanite update, as well as a quickly thrown together presentation. Included were examples of the healing this recent batch has done, the progress she's brought since being here, and even a few excerpts on who she had called, Patient A, for this very purpose. In all reality, it was Angela, but they didn’t need to know that… They _really_ didn’t need to know that. But, she’d only even pull out this information if it seemed none of them were convinced with what she already had, to help her expedite her development. 

So when the room was filled with those who partook on her mission, plus Ana, O’Deorain, and a new body she had yet to see, she settled herself to the side while Jack started. 

It was the gloss overview of the mission, the actions they took, the assault on the omnics and retaliation, a bold retelling of what happened, as well as what they could do better next time. Torbjörn gave his own input on detail updates he noticed on the Omnics, what they could do or strike to dispose of them faster, and finally, the floor was given to Angela. 

Following by example, knowing all eyes were on her, she started with the mission basics. Explaining the injuries took on the battlefield, even just one, calmly explaining how quickly Torbjörn’s injury had healed thanks to the nanites, and how quickly he had gotten back up to his feet. Ana and the strange man in dark clothes had both seemed intrigued at the explanation and for a moment, Angela felt a small flicker of pride light up in her. 

“This current program of Nanite development is only the beginning of what I have planned for battlefield arrangement,” Angela stated boldly as she proudly presented pictures of her blueprints, her rough drafts thus far, of the staff that could carry them easily for her. “With this machine, in the future battlefield scraps could be treated quicker, and with the speed of the Nanites delivered, the injury repair could be much faster. My hope is for it to be nearly instant. So we won’t have to retreat so soon, and casualties can be reduced overall.” 

Jack seemed to nod along to the plans, Torbjörn extensively scrutinizing them for any error. Of course, as an engineer, Angela hoped this would inspire him to help her in its construction. “Why a staff?” Jack asked curiously after a few moments of looking at the screen. “Wouldn’t… a gun of sorts make it easier?”

“No” Angela shook her head quickly. “This prototype is designed for me in mind, first and foremost. I’m not a soldier, I can’t shoot. The staff’s shape and purpose is to dispense in an even stream, and then if it does, we could begin to create more, refined versions. Fit to the user's purpose.” Angela responded. 

Torbjörn, for the smallest of moments, seemed mildly impressed with the work Angela had created. She could see it in the rise of his eyebrow and the slight nod. “You’ve got some good ‘prints here, Doc.” He commented without much thought. “You sure you didn’t want to use this for some other purpose?” 

Again, she shook her head, much to their displeasure. “No. This is an instrument of healing, medicine. To use it any other way, as it currently is, is inhumane.” Angela said firmly. 

“I think you have a fine start there, Doc.” The man in dark clothing had finally spoken up. “Expand on it a little and the enemy won’t even know how we’re still standing against them.” 

She smiled faintly at him; for as unprofessional as he seemed to appear (Showing up to an official meeting in what looked to be a stealth hoodie and a beanie with armor over it,), he sounded much more proper, and certainly a lot less forced than Jack’s commanding tone did. “Thank you, Mr…?” 

“Commander Reyes.” He responded. “Of the Blackwatch unit. You talk with McCree all the time; he never shuts up about it.” 

Angela flushed darkly, for reasons she couldn’t figure out. “Thank you, Commander Reyes.” 

The silence followed for only a moment, Ana pushing herself up from her chair and clearing her throat. “What you have so far in your studies Doctor Ziegler, is a vast improvement from when you arrived. I mean, your Nanites already saved your life once.” Ana said, casting an eye over to Jack for a moment before continuing. “I think you’re going very strong, Angela. And you’re turning out to be an amazing asset, and your medical aid helped get Torbjörn to safety faster.” 

Angela closed out her presentation and nodded along with her. “Thank you for the feedback and support, Captain.” She said softly, feeling the swell of her emotions die down. 

There was just something, something scratching at her. 

O’Deorain’s very intense, fixated gaze that had not lightened up through the entire meeting. Always locked on Angela. Always waiting for a mistake. 

To be praised by Ana like that probably killed her inside, Angela saw it in the very twitch of her thin brow. 

Before long, the meeting was cleared and the debriefing was finished, Angela was more than happy to scurry back to her bedroom, eager to get away from all the eyes laying into her, scanning her like some precious piece of treasure… Hell, her skin was already becoming covered in gold, they might as well have been. 

It was just the way O’Deorain stared...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ACTUALLY ran a little longer than usual and I'm happy about that. I kinda got spontaneous with the Moira and Angela argument in the kitchen, but that's what writing is kids. Sometimes spontaneous things happen. 
> 
> Anyway, next one soon, Comments and Suggestions are always welcome, let me know what yall thought <3


	14. Feathered Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela's thoughts get the better of her, throwing her into a night terror and forcing her to take a day off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is REALLY all over the place. Please bear with me. Hopefully, you guys can get through without much difficulty. Next chapter should be up soon as well <3

Even if Angela’s presentation went smoothly, keeping Jack silent, Ana impressed, and giving a few insightful notes to a few new faces, Angela still felt as if something had gone horribly wrong during the debriefing. 

It was nothing a cigarette break couldn’t fix, she reasoned, stepping outside to the crisp morning air and sighing deeply. If not for the explicit military surroundings, she might even actually enjoy being outside around here. But that was hardly the case as she lit up her cigarette and leaned against the railing, taking peace in being alone for the time being. Relief came to her before long, almost daydreaming as she leaned against her rail. 

Her thoughts never tended to stay gone for long, something always pulling her to think about the current time, progress… she almost wanted to curse her mind for being so active, unable to shut off in the way she knew others could. The back door opened almost on a perfect queue. 

Jesse was one of these such people, or at least from his exterior he seemed like it. He tipped his hat the moment Angela took notice of him, and she nodded in his direction. “Good morning, Jesse.” 

“Mornin, lil’ lady.” He greeted, leaning against the railing just the same. “What’s so wrong you’re out here by…” Jesse looked at his watch. “Nine-thirty?” 

“Debriefing,” Angela responded softly. “I don't think Commander Morrison was quite as impressed with my medical advancements as Captain Amari is.” 

Jesse scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Morrison ain’t impressed with anything. He wasn’t even impressed by me when I first came, that’s why I’m in Blackwatch. If anyone takes interest in anyone’s talents around here, it’s Reyes.” 

“Oh.” Angela perked. “I met him today. He seemed… seems…” Her face still flushed, thinking of the praise he gave her. 

“He’s a little bit on the smug side. Maybe a little unprofessional, but this ain’t a business.” Jesse shrugged. “He gets it. He sees talent, Morrison sees physical skill. Don’t think he graduated so he gets jealous.” He grinned. 

Angela sputtered and laughed, shaking her head. “No, no, Jesse that’s mean.” She responded. “Still… I think he won’t want me out with him again, not if I can’t keep up with him…” Angela mumbled. 

Jesse put an arm around her shoulders and tugged her close, such physical contact she didn’t mind after a while. “Look, Morrison and Reyes were part of that American super-soldier program years ago. They’re both like… they’re like Captain America.” 

She furrowed her brow. “... Who?” 

Jesse couldn’t help but laugh. “They’re not like your normal human being, Doc. They move faster, work harder, stronger, more resilient… “ Angela’s eyes got wide as she listened in. She knew America was never the most ethical but… “So it takes a lot to barely keep up with the guys. You gotta have somethin’ really special to make it up to them.” 

“Something… Special, huh?” Angela looked at her hand with the lit cigarette still in it, flicking the ash, watching her hand flex and move. 

“Yeah.” Jesse said, not even noticing how Angela seemed to space. “Hey, weren’t you talking about some kind of mobility upgrade or whatever? Make ya move faster around the field?” He asked

She took a drag, thinking about it. “I… Did have something in mind…” Angela responded slowly. “... Do you really think that would do the trick? To get Jack to like me?” 

“I don't think you need to be so worried about him liking you.” Jesse shrugged. “You keep goin’ the way you’re goin, you’ll be in the light in no time. I can almost guarantee it” 

Angela rolled her shoulders with Jesse finally getting off of her, staring at the ground as she thought about it still. “How can you be so sure of these things?” She asked him. 

“Been here long enough,” Jesse said casually, finally pulling out his own cigarette. “You notice some patterns from time to time, see how it unfolds… You’re a real smart woman, Doc. A gift, really.” He complimented her with a smile. 

Angela nodded along to it all, finally taking the last of her cigarette down to the filter. She had been… nonchalantly inspired. “Thank you, Jesse.” She said, giving him a soft smile before turning to walk inside. 

She had a new purpose in advancing her tech now. And she’d be damned if she wasn’t going to capitalize on it. 

\--- ---

Work gave way to a rather drowsy Angela after some point in the day. She was running on fumes by the time dinner rolled around, and she didn’t even want to participate in that. All she wanted at some point in the day was sleep, which she got whether she liked it or not at some early point, falling asleep on her bed as she was sketching out some other prototype for something else. 

The sleep was fruitless, at the very best. 

At the worst? She was in tears, weak cries breaking in hiccups as she jolted awake, throwing her drawing instruments across the floor and her bed. 

Instinctively be it she knew it or not, she reached for her pistol at the side of her bed, not wanting to be unprotected. She could barely discern memories and dreams from reality, the whirring of bots, and how she had been treading down that hallway again. The same nightmare creeping up more and more often. The same images of encountering her parent's bodies, the fear as a Bastion unit closed in… 

Her heart pounded as she fought not to pull the trigger at mirages. Its all she could do. She had to get out. She had to move, to run…! 

Angela dropped her gun as she briefly managed to grab her ID, dashing from the door in tears. She wasn’t sure where she was going, what she wanted to do. A cigarette sounded heavenly, but the smoke would have made her think of the burning cloth and flesh...

She ran, ran as the tears blurred and she ran into something, someone…! She felt herself toppling to the floor, somehow, and wiped her eyes long enough to recognize the figure, large and looming… she scooted back, her heart racing. She didn’t know what to do and felt like crying further. 

“Angela?” 

Wait. No. That was fine. He was fine, it was Reinhardt. 

“Are you okay, Angela?” he asked as gentle as he could, reaching down to help her up. She took his hand, hoisting herself up and holding back a choked sob, shaking her head without forming words. She couldn’t. 

Reinhardt seemed to take it to his own, getting to her level. “**Angela, listen to me. You’re in a safe place now. Understand? Nod for me.**” 

With little assurance, Angela nodded for him, just as he asked, hiccuping. The German was soothing in a way Angela didn’t expect it to be. 

“**Good. Come with me. We’ll get you settled.**” Reinhardt didn’t leave any room for argument as he practically picked her up, holding her close as she squeaked, clinging to him. Very much like when he rescued her, all those years ago. It was, in itself, grounding. As for why she was experiencing this in the first place, she wasn’t sure. She didn’t want to know, couldn’t know, and just clung to Reinhardt as he carried her through the base… 

Eventually, she was sat somewhere. A couch…? "Reinhardt, that doesn't look like snacks to me." 

Ana…? 

"I'm sorry dear," Reinhardt said, his voice almost the softest Angela had heard it. "She was in tears, I didn't want to leave her alone." 

Angela hiccuped, curling up to keep herself small. She didn't need this, she didn't need to be a burden or to be put on display to others. It almost made her want to run, but she couldn't anymore, not trapped between her superior officer and Reinhardt… She couldn't even think of why they might've been together in the first place, and why now…

"Do you want a hug, Angela?" Ana's voice reached her again. "Or to be left alone?" 

She forced out the answer, stuttering. "H..hug. please." 

Without much hesitance, Ana wrapped an arm around Angela, tucking her in close in a slight cuddle. The warmth was stabilizing, Angela felt herself clinging tightly to Ana's soft nightshirt. Soft. Sweet smelling. God it calmed her far too much than she'd admit. "... Danke." It was the simplest thing for her to say. 

"Did you have a nightmare, Angela?" Ana cooed softly to her as Reinhardt took his spot on Angela's other side, almost protective as he was when he pulled her from the rubble. 

All she could do to respond was nod and she nuzzled against Ana's shoulder. "Rest, habibti." Ana coaxed. "You're alright for now. Whatever haunts you, can't hurt you anymore." 

At that, Angela broke out into a loud wail, choking on sobs as her tears came back full force. She didn't know why, but the distinct motherly touch and tone made her want to cry, to mourn. She hadn't thought about her own like that in years, and now…? How she hated this feeling. The feeling of being weak and needy. Hated how her cries shook her body, and how the only thing there to stabilize her was Ana and Reinhardt… 

It took a while, too long to Angela's simple notice of time (or rather, lack thereof), but when she did come down from her tears, she opened her eyes to finally register what was around her. The room was dark, only lit by the Holo displaying an old movie. No one else was in this rec room, just herself, Ana, and Reinhardt…

She didn't have to think about it too long before she made the connection, flushing. "I'm … I'm sorry" Angela murmured as she tried to peel herself away, just to be stuck in place by Ana's firm hold around her shoulders. 

"No need to be sorry, Angela," Ana responded in a matter of fact tone. "You were distressed. You've had a long day, after an equally long one the night before." She said. 

Angela sunk in her seat, frowning as she tried to feel more at ease. "... I… I didn't mean to cry, I…" she forced down a hiccup, accent thick in her mild distress. "It was just a bad dream." 

"Nonsense" Reinhardt's voice was just as calm as earlier. "Bad dreams are no longer just bad dreams after war, little one. Things plague you, and memories can hurt. If there's anyone who'd know about how the mind likes to assault soldiers, it would be you." 

Technically, he wasn't wrong. Angela very well knew the adverse effects of PTSD and other various trauma, and if it were any patient coming to her in tears, she'd understand and counsel them and be their shoulder. It was… it was her herself needing that shoulder that she hated. She was supposed to be the support, the doctor. She couldn't afford to need help too...!

Ana gave her a squeeze, just as she was about to protest. "I already know what you're thinking," Ana said, looking down and trying to meet Angela's gaze. "And even us healers need healing or a helping hand sometimes. You know that." 

She didn't respond this time, only shuffled in closer in trying to hide. "... Then I'm sorry for interrupting your… personal time." Angela said quietly. 

To her surprise, it pulled a deep laugh out of Reinhardt. "No need to be concerned, we have this time every week." He felt no issue explaining. Why he was telling her this, Angela hadn't a clue. "We don't mind helping a teammate in need." He grinned. 

As if that made her feel any better. She pulled her knees to her chest, hoping it would help her hide even just a little. She didn't feel the need to respond as the movie continued playing, hopefully, they didn't press the issue. As odd as she found it, it was just as equally comforting for reasons Angela couldn't describe. Perhaps she really was starved of genuine, kind human interaction. Damn O'Deorain and her bitter outlook on everything and…And… ugh. She tried her best not to growl. O'Deorain wasn't worth it. She'd never be worth it… 

Maybe that was just her petty energy talking. 

Regardless, she tried to relax, tried to distract herself with the movie currently playing on the Holo. Anything to get herself to calm and not be so easily plagued by her dreams and agitation. Ana and Reinhardt carried a conversation above her, and after a short while when the movie was finished, Reinhardt was the first to stand. 

"**Do you want to get chamomile tea with us, Angela?**" Reinhardt asked her, smiling softly as he tried to be comforting. 

She nodded, no word coming as she tried to get out of the couch herself. Ana followed shortly suit, patting her shoulder. "It'll help you relax a little." Ana said softly as if she was able to understand Reinhardt as well. If Anglea was a fool, that would have been what she assumed; she must have been vaguely dissociating during their conversation. "Maybe you could sleep. And if you don't, at least you'll be more relaxed." 

Again, Angela nodded and followed them both from the recreational room to the kitchen. Without much prompting, Angela sat on the countertop and said nothing. It did get a slight chuckle out of Ana, and Reinhardt merely smiled. 

The tea didn't take long, and honestly, Angela preferred it that way. She didn't want to mingle in their personal time more than she had to, and even then… her bedroom sounded like a nice place to be. Or at least, what she was thinking for her bedroom. Even if she wanted it to be a while, her current conception of time wasn't really helping. Everything moved fast, with herself merely in slow motion. 

Before long Angela was sent away with a cup, Reinhardt and Ana both going their separate ways shortly after, and all that was left was Angela, her tea, and her thoughts. She made her way for her bunk, only for her feet to start carrying her in a different direction. Work may have caused the stress of her nightmares, but she'd be damned if she wasn't going to push through it. A wave of determination washed over her as she scanned her ID into the lab, pleased to know O'Deorain wasn't there. Perfect. Why would she be, anyhow? It was still the dead of night. 

Then again, Angela was here. Anything was possible. 

She sat the cup of tea down at her desk, moving to start drawing more plans, something more than just her staff. A way to get around quicker, high mobility. She needed to reach across a battlefield in an instant, or be left in the dust. The thoughts of how she could accomplish this raced by her, and for a short while, she did forget her troubles. 

… for the most part. 

\--- --- --- 

For what Angela could call the first time in her life, she took what she could of a day off. 

Sure, she stopped by the Medical Bay to check-in, but she didn’t dare step her foot into the lab. Not now, she didn’t want to hear about her presentation from O’Deorain. The very thought of it crossing her mind made her want to vomit, in any case. She didn’t go and join Jesse outside today, either. No, today was for herself. 

She dressed modestly, covering her scars but keeping pretty. It was well due time that she went out exploring the area around her, and getting out of Overwatch for the time being would give her just the headspace she needed, she thought. It was scientifically proven that everyone could use a break, and it would help them do better with their thought processes and problem-solving. So, that’s precisely what Angela did. 

It took a little while, but she boarded a ferry boat that took her around, and to the mainland of Spain. The walk itself was refreshing with the ocean air, even more so as the ferry itself glided across the water. The event was almost hypnotic as it rocked and swayed, Angela was more than thrilled. She’d hardly been on a boat in her life, and this was a fantastic chance to do it on her own. 

Much to her own surprise, she sat on an outside bench, watching the waves and other boats go by, and eventually caught a glimpse of seagulls. Free little things, made for flight and paddling the water. Angela let herself smile at how carefree they were. All at the same time, they carried their own hardships and burdens… 

This is… almost why Angela never cared to have a pet, after her parent’s passing. She thought of them too much like humans. Much the reason why she never had any lab rats of her own. 

At least, the difference between the animals around her and the humans was, the animals never truly realized the impending danger of world war that threatened to wage at any moment. How bittersweet, it must be…

Now she really was starting to lose herself as the ferry came to completely stop and dock, and she walked herself through the small port and town it had taken her to, not far from the Gibraltar base. She saw a few, vaguely familiar faces of Overwatch recruits around the area as she traveled, it seemed like she wasn’t the only one who decided they needed a slight change of scenery. Despite being just a boat ride away, she already felt as if she were in a different world. 

The shops were busy with customers and visitors filtering in and out, Angela took note of a particularly nice looking sandwich shop for next time, should she even decide on a next time. A few clothing stores, perhaps an electronics center, eateries, just to name a few of the things going on around her. She took it all in, jotting down mental notes for later, and found her way into a market of sorts. Foods from across Europe were scattered inside, as was expected. 

What Angela didn’t expect to find made her eyes glitter like gold. 

“Läderach!” She chipped in a nearly inhuman tone, begging a few curious looks towards her direction. 

She flushed as she grabbed the largest package she could find, not only of Swiss chocolates but her favorite kind. It reminded her of home in so many heartfelt ways, she almost started to tear up at the thought. How in the world she’d ever found these, she’d never knew. 

Her day was filled with walking around keeping that most precious treasure close to her. Any taste of home was never enough, she had found herself thinking. Angela wished she would be allowed to go during the winter months… Even if she didn’t at least she could still make a snow angel. 

She popped one of the sweets in her mouth, humming in delight as she made her way back for the later ferry, watching again as Seagulls flew overhead. Even as she watched, she didn’t anticipate an attacker from behind. She yelped as a webbed foot ripped a chocolate piece from her hands, making its way to a nearby building. Angela watched it the entire way, squinting with vengeance in her eyes. 

The seagull seemed to realize Angela was staring, and it had puffed its ruffled feathers, raising its wings, and balked quite the mocking sound at her. 

She stuck her tongue out at it, her only form of rebuttal before she got to thinking. Frozen in her tracks, Angela continued to stare at the bird, watching as it ate her chocolate with gusto and pride… 

Jetpacks and propulsion mechanisms were large and bulky, and she wasn’t about to strap herself into something like she heard through the grapevine of Helix Security officers and new members from Egypt to Overwatch. Of course, they hadn’t established anything worthwhile yet… but something lightweight, maneuverable, with the right anchor system. A smile curved to her lips. 

“Danke, small friend.” Angela bid it farewell, nodding at the seagull as it screeched at her yet again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very tired, its late at night/early in the morning, All i can really couple together is i was having a hard time with this chapter. But, I hope you all enjoyed none the less. The next chapter should be back to typical flow. Comments and suggestions are always welcome!


	15. Towards the Trees; A Flutter of Wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela makes progress on a suit to get her more mobile across the battlefield, and she finally talks to Torbjorn about her staff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a bit longer than necessary, but we went to Starbucks and wrote this out and had a good time while doing it so theres that. I hope you guys enjoys it!

“Wings?” O’Deorain’s voice was almost a painstaking laugh. "Are you trying to act your age, Ziegler?" 

Angela had been in the lab, sketching a grand scale idea of a propulsion system. Wings, with hard light thrusters and a remote control mechanism with hand signals. It was still a draft, the design itself in its rough stages, but Angela already knew what she wanted to build. It was unfortunate that O'Deorain had finally decided to see what her scribbling had produced; as if she would have any positive commentary anyway. 

"I thought of it over the course of time," Angela admitted, trying to not sound too gruff as she pulled up her notes (scribble in English) for O'Deorain to see. "Birds can maneuver so easily, and their bones are hollow structures. I'm no lightweight myself, but with enough steady propulsion and a proper vent system, I can glide where I need to. I'll be able to keep up." Angela nodded to herself. 

O'Deorain followed, flicking through the notes. "Say flight was the answer to your deficit. Why not just go with a jetpack? Or take an example from the test Raptora units Helix is making? I'm sure a brilliant mind like you wouldn't have any trouble getting them to lend their studies." It almost sounded like a genuine suggestion. 

"I'm trying to glide across a battlefield, not shoot myself in the air " Angela frowned, adding another note to her board in Swiss. "I need more control as well."

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see O'Deorain shrug and place her set of notes on her desk. Thankfully, without commentary in her annoying Gaelic scrawl. "Good luck without immense pressure to your spine or winding up in heavy armor anyway." She responded. 

Angela held back the urge to stick her tongue out like a child, instead promoting herself to step back and look at the big picture. If she could just gain the trust of Torbjörn for him to help with the engineering of her suit, that would be all she needed. She already had the perfect idea in mind, the color scheme, and how it would fit to be "remotely controlled". It was just how large or what to create of the inside. She needed a professionals help, not some limp noodle with an attitude. 

She had spent the better part of three hours on this design and opted to take a break for another project of hers after a short period of review. Her staff lay in deconstructed pieces behind her, the prototype from before now changed to be an elongated form, and a large PVC pipe acted as a storage unit for her Nanites. It would do until she could get actual materials, a glass tubing, to properly contain them for transport. All she needed was a shape, and it was coming along nicely. Even the fine needlepoint was in good condition, borrowed from another tool around the lab. Hopefully O'Deorain had a spare piece laying around, should she need it. 

A small problem quickly presented itself as she examined her staff, how large it was going to be once completed. She stood back and nibbled her lip, comparing herself, the half-finished staff, and the drawing of wings on the board. 

If she was flying and carrying her staff, what would she do about her gun? A holster, yes, but what if she needed to fire it? What of her staff then?

Angela had always liked a problem-solving challenge. 

The first thought that came to mind was finding a way to break the staff down, or fold it in such a way that would reduce the area it took up. But that would require a flexible storage unit, or not broken down in efficient enough pieces. That wouldn’t quite do. The next idea was thinking of ways to strap the staff to her back, without it getting in the way of her flight mechanism. The wings still needed space to move, with proper joints of course. 

Angela found herself scribbling more notes than necessary as she thought about these things, and came to the conclusion that she would end up needing to strap it to herself, without blocking any paths. She’d also need a better fitting holster for her own gun, on her thigh rather than on her side. She always hated bumping her arms into it, anyway. 

At some point, O’Deorain had moved over again, glancing over the notes in both English and Swiss, Angela barely gave her any notice as she punched in the notes to her computer for later, hoping to carry on with her studies in her bedroom later in the day. It was only the looming face, high brows, that captured Angela’s attention. “Did you need something, Doctor O’Deorain?” 

For a moment, she neglected to respond, looking at the board. “... You’ve got a concept here, Ziegler.” She seemed to note, despite her displeasure to it earlier. “Do you have the technical skill to actually succeed in your endeavors?” 

Angela didn’t let her see the twitch of her brow that came with irritation. No, of course she didn’t, but that's where she needed to talk to Torbjörn; if he ever grew fond of her…

“I’d recommend taking your plights to that goblin of an engineer, Lindholm.” As if O’Deorain didn’t know she just worked with the man not too long ago. “He should know all about the fine mechanics needed to sweep you off your feet, so to speak.” 

She once again fought back a growl. “I was planning on it. He’s…” Angela reclined in her chair. “Grumpy.” She settled. 

“And you thought I was bad at turning out assistants.” O’Deorain chipped, almost making a joke. “Good luck with that one, Ziegler.” 

She almost sounded genuine. 

\--- --- --- 

Angela had her blueprints in her hands, heart heavy as she had finally managed to find the engineering facility in the basement of it all. If she ever wondered where the heating for the entirety of the base came from, this would be it. Carefully, Angela opened the door with her access ID, and immediately found herself blinded by the warm glow of what looked to be molten lava cycling through. 

The workshop was alight with various people of large size, all wearing protective gear, all making some weapon or armor, or anything similar. Angela felt it only slightly archaic. But in the back she could clearly see the large form of Reinhardt, looming directly over Torbjörn as he seemed to be working on the former’s armor. 

A small smile graced her face as she moved forward, only being noticed by Reinhardt once she was close. “Angela! What brings you down here!?” He was loud with enthusiasm, apparently having been telling Torbjörn a story from his life in the Crusaders. Torbjörn didn’t seem to mind either way, but when she was addressed, he did turn to her and give her a glance up. 

“It's just you, rookie.” He didn’t seem as agitated as he was when they had met. Could something have changed? “What can I do you for.” 

She quickly handed him the blueprints she had drawn up, notes included in the clearest English she could manage. “I… I need your help with a project of mine. So I’m not as big of a detriment on your next mission.” Angela explained as calmly as she could. 

Torbjörn took off his forging gloves, pulling the papers to himself and walking to his table. “Can’t imagine why a doctor needs my help.” He said, almost a bit as a mock until he unfolded the papers, examining them curiously. Reinhardt stood over both of them, looking on with interest. 

After a few solid moments of silence, Reinhardt uproared in joyous laughter. “Well well! Looking to become our Guardian Angel, Angela?” He asked her, planting a large hand on her shoulder. It almost crushed her, but she managed to stay tall. 

“Something like that. I thought a harnessed flight system would be easier than a… jetpack.” she looked as Torbjörn appeared to scrutinize it. 

He pulled his own white pencil, making a few notes along the large paper Angela had brought in. “Y’know, Doc.” He spoke after a moment or two, going over her paper. “If I didn’t know better I’d say you were some engineer’s apprentice. This looks like real thought out work. How many years did you spend learning how to design like this?” 

Angela flushed darkly, almost flattered. “I always had to draw up plans for my next clinical test in Zurich,” Angela explained softly. “Can’t have cutting edge medical science without learning how to print, after all…” 

Once again, Torbjörn looked at her, examining her face and squinting slightly. “... How old are you?” He decided to ask her, not quite convinced. 

“Twenty-two, sir.” Angela responded. 

She saw the subtle change in expression, not quite sure what it meant, but Reinhardt started laughing again afterward. “Not much older than Camilla, isn’t that right?” Reinhardt grinned, nudging at Torbjörn, almost as if he was goading him to laugh. 

It didn’t get him to budge, but he did thumb at his pencil a little harder and run a hand through his beard. “... Why Jack had the bright idea sending a kid into a battlefield and being so hard, I don’t know.” he finally said after a moment or two, putting his pencil down and looking at Angela. He gave himself the most affirming stance that he could, for being such a short man. “Alright, Doc. I’ll help you out. I’ve got a queue running, so check back in a few weeks, alright? I’ll see if I have something for you then.” 

Angela’s eyes lit up like stars, beaming as he agreed. “You mean that? You’ll help?” 

“Yeah, yeah.” She didn’t need to see his face to know he was blushing a little from the admiration. “Can’t let a kid get killed just cause she can't run as fast as a super-soldier.’ Torbjörn said almost bitterly as he wrapped up her notes. “If you think of anything else along the way, just come and let me know. We’ll see how we can work it into what you have. This is fine nanotech you’ve got me working with her, Doc. It’ll take a while but it’ll be fine-tuned.” He explained.

Without much notice, she wrapped around him in a hug, almost too ecstatic. “Thank you, Torbjörn. I promise I’ll learn to be a better asset on the field for your work.” She said, almost too happy before letting go of him, and looking up to Reinhardt instead. “And for you as well, Reinhardt.” 

She waved to them goodbye before they had much of an option to respond, glee lifting her off the ground. She vaguely heard words from Torbjörn, something about having a ‘conversation’ with Jack before the end of the week. Whoever Camilla was, seemed to be important enough for Angela to remind Torbjörn of her, and inspire him to help her with this mobility unit. ‘Unit’, she thought, knowing very well the name she scribbled in the corner. ‘Swift Response”. 

\-- --- --- 

More time flew by for Angela, She had half a mind every now and again to check on Torbjörn in the workshop, vaguely considering calling Reinhardt each time. And every moment she spent visiting Torbjörn down there felt like some kind of intimate look into his life. She didn’t know very much about him to begin with, but she was glad to find a smile behind that bushy mustache and beard, knowing full well that any twitch of his lip was a good sign. She learned a little about his family through casual conversation, and she didn’t mind the talk. She learned not only about his wife, but about Camilla, and the seven other children he had right down to his youngest, Brigitte. 

Supposedly, Camilla was in college studying to be a veterinarian. He even joked a little, explaining to Angela that the last picture he received of her made her look as if she was just as tired as his new companion. Angela had only smile in compassion, knowing just how hard medical education of any kind would be. Well, for someone that wasn’t exactly a gift in the book. 

After about a month of friendly conversation while he worked, both about his family and of the progress he was making on the staff and Swift Response suit, there was an armor stand. It’s shape was the same as Angela’s body, with a harness and an extended wire to an arm for the remote control system. The wings were yet to come to life, but Angela was assured he could figure it out.

In the same amount of time, the staff Angela had drawn up and built prototypes of had a final design, exterior and casing; all it needed at this point was the fine wiring and programming, which Angela insisted on doing herself. It all needed to agree with her nanites and her hard wiring, and Torbjörn respected that.

Any time that was not spent with Torbjörn was spent updating her nanites yet again, in preparation to be combined with the staff and its functions. The month time that it took to prepare the staff itself, she was finished with another update to her nanites and had them filled into vials, just in case.

And herself, of course. 

She had already given herself the updated format, enhanced feelings of anxiety and guilt were mild this time, knowing full well that her mind was on other things (a few cigarettes extra for the day also proved to help). And finally, she was filling the internal containment for her staff. The time she waited for the program to install on the staff was the time she had spent waiting for her own IV drip to tip-off, and now she just needed it to fill. 

Once it was finished, all Angela needed was a small test. It was already arranged to be displayed for Ana and Jack at 16:00, where it was currently around 14:00. 

The staff itself was laid on her desk, aesthetically unfinished without paint or proper grip to prevent her hands from getting sore. She’d worry about the scheme later, all that mattered was the functionality of it all. The main structure was reinforced, yet lightweight steel, the internals being of fiberglass to hold the nanites, all with science grade glass and tubing to get the nanites in and out of the mechanism. All of it coming to a glass container that would pressurize the nanites and force them out of the steel needle tip, glowing slightly as she filled it. 

Interestingly enough, there was a mechanism that Torbjörn had added, a rotating three-prong piece that would help with pushing out the nanites, or for a flare effect. She wasn’t quite sure exactly why it was there, but she figured that over time she would learn. 

There was something that was bothering her throughout the day, and that was the fact that O’Deorain was nowhere to be found. Not inside the lab or any time she’d been outside that day. Not that she didn’t mind the lack of a certain nagging, nosy, noodle; it was just quite strange to not have seen her in her personal sanctuary (even if Angela was also there). 

It wasn’t until her staff was completely full, evident by a soft clicking of the internal mechanisms, that the door opened to show O’Deorain in what appeared to be formal attire with a lack of a lab coat. All it took was a quick glance to meet eyes before O’Deorain’s expression shifted. 

“What in the hell have you got there, Ziegler?” She asked curiously, momentarily abandoning her previous objective to walk over to Angela’s desk. 

Angela protectively stood, body blocking O’Deorain from her staff. “It’s the Asclepius staff.” She proclaimed without a thought. “I’m surprised you haven’t seen me work on it sooner.” 

“Because I rarely actually pay attention to the less intricate things you do in this lab.” O’Deorain had casually added on, looking over the staff over Angela’s shoulder. “... Did that garden gnome actually help you make something productive?” She almost sounded… jealous, in a way. 

“He made the mainframe, I installed the wiring and programming,” Angela explained casually, detaching the staff from the tank where her nanites were filling in and producing it for O’Deorain to see closer. The only unfortunate thing was it seemed to be taller than her… which, in the grand scheme of things, worked out for just how many nanites she needed to carry. 

“Quite large for your stature, isn’t it?” O’Deorain felt the need to comment as she circled around Angela, looking on at the staff and Angela’s size overall. “I thought you were trying to be more efficient around the battlefield, not be a glowing detriment.” 

Angela rolled her eyes, placing the staff back on the table before long. “I’ll be carrying it as I’m in flight, and I’ve already designed a holster mechanism to carry if I need to do something else with my hands. I’ve thought about this already.” Angela responded, twisting it in her hands to get a good look and feel. It felt a little heavier now than it did carrying it to her lab in the first place, but that was only because of the nanites. 

O’Deorain seemed to shrug, and footsteps told her that she was walking back to her own desk. “Suit yourself, Guardian Angel.” 

She wanted to stab the lanky woman for calling her such... She wasn’t a guardian angel, she was a medic. And a damn good one at that. The materials she laid out on her desk would only make her a better one in time for the battlefield, should Jack give her the chance. 

In her mind, she knew they’d be impressed. But there was still that slight nag in the back of her mind, warning her of the dangers ahead, what they could do should they have found out of her project on the side. The injections…

She looked at the clock, grimacing as her fingers itched. She needed another cigarette before she went to see them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just really want to give you guys a BIG fucking thank you for supporting me so far if you have, leaving comments when you did, and all the wonderful feedback I've gotten from within the Moicy Discord server (Admined by myself and femmesurana/Nymph). All the love keeps me going for this, honestly. 
> 
> The next chapter, now that i've found the place, is where the M rating is going to start coming into play. I'll give you guys a formatted warning before the 'problematic' scene begins should you all wish to skip it. Otherwise, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and will continue to check up. Comments and Suggestions are always welcome <3


	16. Faith, Trust... A Little Bloodlust.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a successful display of Angela's working staff, she goes to test something else, that backfires almost instantly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS YOUR CONTENT WARNING! Further on in this chapter, there will be some content that won't be for young minors or anyone who might find notes of self-harm, harming to them. Angela's gonna be a big dumb idiot, and test her nanites in a big dumb way. There will be another warning as I change scenes so you all can decide to stop reading after that, or continue on should you wish to ignore the warning. 
> 
> Otherwise. Apologies for this chapter being short. I intended on it being longer but there was only so much I could write about without interfering with what I wanted to do next in the story. Don't worry, I'll make up for it at a later date. For now, please enjoy and let me know if you guys have anything you'd like to discuss.

It was less of a field adaptation, and more of just a showcasing of her staff. Angela figured this out as she was brought to a training area devoid of soldiers and scouts, left with merely Ana, Jack, and Gabriel Reyes looking on as she showed them the staff, explaining each feature. How one trigger and button will dispense the nanites to a varying degree, the trigger at the back was to help lock the staff together, and how the rotation of the mechanism at the top would help to push the nanites faster. 

It only impressed them further, as Angela displayed how light it appeared to be for military-grade equipment, and something forged in Torbjörn’s workshop. It was also a delight to see how much of a grin Reyes and Ana had broken out through her whole presentation. She pressed the triggers to get the nanites to dispense, watching as a straight stream of golden medical magic filtered out of it, just like a straight spray bottle would if applied. It made pride well in her chest at her scientific medical advancement, how far all of her work had come. For the smallest of moments as she pulled the staff back, she was glad to have traded her place at her hospital for her place here. 

To end it, she gave a small twirl of the staff, planting the end of it firmly in the ground, the impact causing the three spinning prongs to pop out and spin, almost in it’s own delightful show. O’Deorain was right, it did tower over her by a few inches… But as long as it suited her purposes, Angela didn’t mind how tall or large it was. She could carry it easily in the heart of battle, perhaps use it as her defense mechanism instead of her gun. She did, after all, hate using any firearms. Perhaps a safer one for her use would be next on her list of things to create and develop...

Reyes was the first to walk over, approaching Angela with a smile on his face and wonder in his eyes. “Mind if I hold it for a second, Doc?” He asked curiously, reaching out for it.

She flushed a little at the attention but nodded, handing over her contraption and he seemed impressed, looking over the material and twisting it around in his hands. He too, gave it a bit of a twirl, spinning it to get familiar with the weight of it. All the while, his eyes scanned it up and down, examining the design and how it functioned much closer up. It almost felt as if Reyes himself was looking at the most intimate piece of Angela in that moment. It made her flush even darker. 

“Huh.” He mumbled nonchalantly as he twisted it around, finally handing it back to her after his examination was finished. “Good work.” 

Angela nodded at him, taking the staff back almost a little too cheerfully. She didn’t need to feel looked at as if she was under a microscope, even if it was for a good reason. “Thank you, Commander Reyes,” Angela said softly. “I hope to be able to use it to aid us all in battle, one day.” She said. 

“I'm sure it'll be a big help" Reyes seemed to smile a tad wider. "And if hard ass man over there doesn't appreciate it, us over at Blackwatch will definitely want your device." 

She flushed still, nodding and smiling as Jack groaned off to the side."Stop trying to steal my medics, Gabe." Jack had told him, almost in a joking tone. Almost. 

All Reyes seemed to do was roll his eyes but smiled, patting Angela on the shoulder. "Really, kid. You ever get tired of him pushing you down, we got a spot for you." 

"Gabriel," Ana spoke this time, short and sweet. It was almost like a small warning, Angela heard it in the tone of her voice. How one would warn a child. 

Reyes gave Angela a small wink before heading off, allowing Ana and Jack to finish their own thinking and comments. Angela's head swam with possibility and opportunity and gripped her unpolished staff tighter. They were making halfway coherently, and Angela started to take a few steps back before Jack looked at her, something intense in his eyes. 

"You said this was to be used in tandem with…?" 

"A flight suit. Yes." Angela said firmly, a vague attempt to hide the rapid beating of her heart. "I'm calling it the Swift Response. So I can move faster, and you will no longer have to wait to let me catch up with you. But this will help immensely on its own." She explained in full. 

Ana nodded along, smiling at Angela with full confidence. "I think by now you should be able to keep up. We do keep putting you through morning drills after all." 

Angela flushed slightly at that and nodded. "Y… Yes, Captain." 

They both nodded to one another before Jack gave Angela his full attention again. "You're dismissed, Doctor Ziegler." He said kindly, gesturing for Angela to leave. 

She did so, almost too eagerly, gripping her staff and hiding a secret smile. Now she had a whole new type of project she needed to build on. She had been thinking about it for a while since this new update had been even faster at healing than before. Angela knew it. All she wondered now was how long. How long would the Nanites take to save her from a seemingly mortal wound? The curiosity had been digging at her since she did fight alongside Jack, Reinhardt, and Torbjörn. Her laser injury had healed up nicely and quickly, so how fast could her nanites really work? 

Angela had to know. She had been mulling over just the intensity for weeks, how to properly test herself. She had finally come up with something that would sate her innate, yet very dangerous curiosity. 

**\--- --- --- (CONTENT WARNING AHEAD - SELF HARM) --- --- ---**

By now, Angela had learned to stockpile her belongings in her room, when she had the off chance. The few looks she got told her she was being observed, and she couldn't have that. She already had a secret stash of tubing and needles in her room, ready whenever she was for her nanite injections. But it wasn't the nanites she needed them for this time. 

It was for blood. 

In the back of her mind, Angela told herself it was crazy. Insane, to do this to herself. But evidence has proven that she wouldn't die. She couldn't. The Nanites were already too potent in her bloodstream to really let her die from something so... trivial. She saved herself from a grenade blast! So, logically, her skin should be able to suture up a wound from a severe cut, like a gash, without a problem now. 

A wound, say, from one's elbow to the wrist. 

Angela knew in the back of her mind, her nanites would suture her up before she lost too much blood. But it was the lack of blood that would be her problem. Or at least make her dizzy as she recovered. So she had slipped in the medical bay earlier in the day, retrieving herself a bag of O- blood in the event she was light-headed after her wounds had healed. She set up a plastic tarp on the floor of her room, just in case it decided to get messy. She wanted to be sure she wouldn't have to deep clean anything later on in case she lost a bit more blood than anticipated. Bandages to the side to cover and pad her sensitive flesh once she was sealed up. Everything was set. Angela was ready and prepared. 

She just needed to take the plunge. 

She sat on the floor of her room, everything laid out before her, with the blood in the tiny refrigerator kept for drinks. She'd need it before long, she knew it. Bandages on the right, a small tub for catching the blood in front of her… why was her heart hammering the way it was? This was safe; she was safe. There was no reason in the world why she should believe it would fail. 

Her science was good, thorough. This was a reasonable test. She had defied death once, with the very same technology within her fourfold, she would be fine. 

Angela picked up her scalpel and took a breath, drawing the line. 

It hurt. Pinched and burned as she cut open flesh in a long, deep line. With the precision of a skilled surgeon, the ease of the motion was easier done on her left arm than her right, but once she had completed the hardest task, she dropped her instrument. 

It felt like her veins were on fire, but filling with ice. 

She watched as the blood poured, seeing vague golden glitter as it spilled. 

Not enough gold. But too much blood to spill…

Angela watched, watched her body as it refused to piece itself back together. Blood continued to flow without signs of stopping, and slowly she understood why her heart was beating so hard. And now it went harder. 

This was wrong. _She_ was wrong. 

Her nanites weren’t repairing. She was losing too much blood too quickly…! 

She looked to her lab coat, there was no trace of nanites contained in her pocket, she couldn’t see the shape of the vial. And she had left her undecorated staff in the Medical Bay, in her office, right behind her desk. 

“**Damn it! No! No, no no no…!**” Angela looked at her arms, almost frantic as she already grew light-headed. “**No! This isn’t what I wanted! I don’t want to die! I can’t!**” She babbled uselessly to herself, quickly falling to pieces. 

The panic set in harder than before as she tried to stand, only to collapse back on her feet and splash herself in the mess. Her jeans became splattered with her very soul, her vision already going blurry. There was no possible way she was _this_ wrong about her own science! 

She reached over, grabbing the gauze that she planned to use _after_ her body started to repair itself, but it didn’t. She tried applying pressure to the wounds, but damn if she didn’t know full and well exactly where she cut and how deep. Damn her knowledge of human anatomy, human biology, and having the damn gut feeling to tell herself to stop! 

She didn’t listen. Angela never listened to anything that might’ve held her back. No one was allowed to hold her back from her progress, not even herself. 

And now that same foolishness was going to kill her. 

She tried anything and everything to keep herself conscious, feeling the control slipping from her. Counting backward from one-hundred by seven. Examining pieces of her room. Who to call to rescue her before she did finally drain herself empty.

Nothing. 

Everything was fading to black. 

All she could think of as she lost herself, slipping into darkness, was how foolish she was for thinking even she of all human beings could defy her own body. 

She was no God. 

She’d meet them soon, though…

And she’d see her parents again, too... 

Curiosity killed the cat, so they say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _but satisfaction did bring it back._
> 
> Before you get wild on me, Angela isn't dying, nor will she die. The tags didn't change, after all. So she's still living, don't fret your pretty heads. Unless you're stressing over how she gets found, then yes, worry all you'd like. 
> 
> I know this is something dark, but its something I wanted to think about and push on Angela. Her nanites are a wonderful thing, and she has full confidence in them. I wanted an event that would write Angela as overconfident in her own science, and give a reason as to why she's no longer ever so confident in them later in the fic, its all plot-relevant. You'll see when we get there. 
> 
> Thank you all for your support and the comments you leave, I appreciate all of it. Comments and Suggestions are always welcome, and now onto the next chapter before I lose my brain. Thank you!


	17. A Day In The Life of Moira O'Deorain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A peek into the day of Moira, how she gets ready, and what she does when Angela isn't bothering her. Moira POV, not Angela's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I posted the last chapter literally like, two hours or so ago. But i was so driven to finish the next chapter, I had to get this out now. To alleviate the pain of a cliff hanger. This chapter is Moira's third-person POV, not Angelas. It gives a bit of background on Moira and helps to understand why Moira acts the way she does. Her thoughts on Angela as a whole... Hopefully, yall enjoy it!

Moira had always enjoyed a pattern, a schedule. Every morning she woke at 07:00, maybe with a few minutes to quietly nurse a mild hangover. That is what she was currently doing. 

The brat that had run amuck of her lab, Ziegler, had always given her a headache whenever she decided to say something that wasn’t quite professional or warranted, or just acted too overconfident of herself. Not that she was the reason Moira drank, she would drink anyway. But she would be lying if she said she didn’t take an extra shot or two of something stronger because of it. 

Like the night in the communal kitchen, after she spent time looking for an extra bottle after she ran hers dry. Ziegler had found her way down there and was making herself tea of some form, and for whatever god awful reason decided to pick a fight. Be it Ziegler was drunk her own self, or just irritated or high strung. Whatever it may be, it only made Moira’s desire to wash away her day of futile results that much stronger. 

And yesterday, the brat had to be on her high horse about her stick of magical medicine. What had she called it, the Asclepius staff? Why she didn’t just stick to her doctor theme and call it the Caduceus, she’d never know. And she didn’t care, either. 

Well, scratch that. Moira cared, but not enough to really give a shit. 

She got herself out of bed at about 07:06, pushing her feet into slippers to ignore the linoleum floor as she made her way to the rest of her living space. Where most of the people on base lived in what could be equated to college dorms, Moira had a slight upgrade, being the lead in Genetics and Biotics at Overwatch, as well as seniority. Her living space functioned more like a one-bedroom apartment, with a kitchenette fit for cooking mildly organized small meals. Good for her routine. 

That, of course, being her own reduced version of an Irish breakfast, the kind she'd enjoy before running off to school to become her parents' biggest disappointment. Of course, it wasn’t her marks in everything that they had found perturbing. Just her interests. 

Moira had always been off the firm solid of normal, opting to be in a colorful array of curious and driven. 

Still, despite their tension, a full breakfast with eggs, sausage, mushrooms, and beans gave her a good start for the day, even if thinking about it without her autonomy on brought back bad memories. 

Which is why it was always the first thing she did before her brain really did any waking up. She was always hard to bring out of a foul mood once put into it. Meaning, unfortunately, when she was put in a bad mood, it always had to be before Ziegler seemed terribly excited with something. 

It wasn’t that Moira had hated her, she didn’t. She mulled about it as she fried the eggs in the pan with her sausage, letting out a stiff yawn. Ziegler was every bit as brilliant as her reputation said, the buzz about her joining Overwatch was loud until she finally did show up. There wasn’t a day where Moira didn’t hear her name for any rhyme or reason, and the lab assistant she had before Ziegler had arrived was more than excited to meet her. 

Well, until Moira sent her out of the lab in tears for breaking a few flasks and vials that held important data within them. Reflecting on it, Moira should have put them in a better place. 

But she should have known better than to touch data that wasn’t ready to be examined. 

Moira broke a yolk in the pan by accident, cursing under her breath for doing so. 

Still. Ziegler wasn’t a bad doctor or a bad scientist. In fact, she had been completely impressed upon hearing how she had saved her life, from Ana directly, of course. She played up enough innocence when facing Ziegler later on in the day that it didn’t seem to matter who the information came from. Moira heard rumors, and the rumors said that Doctor Ziegler used her own science to save her life when no one else could. Moira had thought they’d fail on a grander scale from the start. 

But they didn’t, and that was the turning point. 

So she had written her that small get well card, hoping that it would get lost in the rest and Ziegler wouldn’t think hardly anything of it. She was beloved by almost everyone on base, it could technically be from anyone. 

Despite her brilliance, it didn’t stop her from being a thorn in Moira’s side as her own research had fallen stagnant. At least for now. 

She was the most overconfident, overzealous doctor Moira ever had the pleasure to meet. But damn if that wasn’t one of the most attractive things about her. 

By the time Moira had plated up her food, she was already too deep in thinking about her. Ziegler plagued her thoughts, even when she wished she didn’t. If there was anything Moira fancied in a woman, it was her drive and determination. Even more so if it pushed her to try and defy God’s will. And she was radiant. Just like an angel. 

She let her thoughts dance and get the better of her as she ate, still not completely awake. She had been tortured in her dreams, if she wasn’t drunk enough the night prior, to thinking of what could be, if those arguments in the lab had grown to something more. There were times Moira had just wanted to close the distance, silence Ziegler’s speech and take her breath away, pin her to the desk and ravish her to sate these feelings. Surely, she had to feel the same. The way she shuddered under Moira’s fingers examining that first scar, among other things.

But, Ziegler was too much of a star child to ‘break the rules’ like that. That’s why it was merely a dream fantasy. 

Once her breakfast was gone, washed away with some of Overwatch’s cheaply imported coffee, she found herself waking up more and more, no longer thinking of the dreams she had or how Ziegler haunted her thoughts so. 

By the time she was through cooking and eating what she could, she made her way to shower and wash off the rest of the whiskey smell from her pores, if that was possible. Even if it didn’t linger that long, it always helped her wake up with a cold shower, if the coffee and breakfast weren’t enough to jump-start her. 

After came a brief dry off her hair with a towel before gelling it up, keeping the short rag of a mess tidy, for the time being. Until she decided to leave the lab and get into bed. Or drunk. She’d decide depending on if she’d see Ziegler or not, or if she’d get a headache as well from her ever-enthusiastic attitude. If she mellowed out just a little, Moira might’ve thought about bedding her sooner. 

Instead of pulling her lab coat with her over her ironed smooth black shirt and purple tie, She opted for a blazer. Today in particular, she had a seminar at a Spanish university, speaking for the development in genetics to inspire the next generation of scientists and researchers. She had to look proper for it, even if she knew half of them were idiots infected with brain rot to some degree, and weren’t even thinking with the head attached to their shoulders half the time. 

Still, Moira never turned down a chance to make her work public and her work known, even if it was to a bunch of incompetent children. 

\--- --- ---

By the time she finally returned from giving her speech, just as dull as the past several had been, Ziegler had been quite the busy bee on her staff. It wasn’t necessarily that the process was noisy, but she already had a headache from travel, and Moira did not particularly enjoy disturbances to her environment. 

Ziegler, for all intents and purposes, was an extreme disturbance, if she was doing anything but writing on the boards or on her papers. 

And here she was, messing with this ugly contraption that was supposed to help save lives. They barely had any words that held any meaning to Moira, but she did get to examine it slightly. All things considered, it looked like a good piece of tech, manufactured to suit Ziegler’s purpose on the field. Damn her for actually managing to get something done in this place. Well, more than she had already accomplished. 

Moira herself set back to the rest of her own studies, pulling together a fine report of her time at the university in Spain, just to let Amari know how the audience was. Of course, with her harsh criticism, it wasn’t very likely she would be given clearance to return… Unless Amari really held that much disdain and wanted her to suffer. Moira wouldn’t put it past her. 

At some point in the day, Ziegler had left, presumably to show off her new toy to Amari, Morrison, and Reyes. Capturing their attention was good in most cases, unless your last name happened to be O’Deorain and figuratively your middle name be ‘Wicked Witch of the West”, then it came with notes on proper procedure and behavior and how not to chase assistants off. 

Moira didn’t particularly care. She didn’t have anymore anyhow, Ziegler was the only one allowed in the lab now, and that felt like a burden on its own. 

After about an hour on her own, peaceful silence, Moira did what she’d normally do when Ziegler was away. Get up and study her research. She was nothing but a curious scientist, after all. She always found it much easier to read and attempt to decipher her notes rather than ask her to explain it all. It was always that much easier when she left her laptop open, unguarded and unlocked. 

Of course, that was how Moira found out about Ziegler’s dirty little secret she's been keeping. Rather, part of how she deduced it. 

Moira wasn’t blind. Every time Ziegler developed a new program for her nanites, she took some of them with her. To put in her pack, she always told Moira. To put to use on the field. 

Or, in one instance, she had left the lab to ‘grab something’ from her room before going to the Medical Bay. 

Of course, Ziegler must have taken her for either a fool or thought she’d be too consumed in her work to notice her absence. Moira noticed every time Angela had decided to leave, and when she decided to return. Every time she took her nanites out, it was hours before she even thought about poking her head back into the lab. 

All these reports on a ‘Patient A’ she had open one of those days gone past let everything sink in. Moira had figured it out before long and knew exactly what Ziegler was doing behind closed doors of her own room, or at least she had a damn good idea. That, among her research, was what gave Moira such quiet respect for her. Self-experimentation was frowned upon, so it was quite amusing to know what the little Angel was doing, falling from the heavens and starting an unhealthy spiral towards hell with the rest of the advanced scientists that pushed boundaries to get results. Perhaps calling her a martyr would be a better comparison, rather than an angel. 

Nevertheless, the reports she had on her board this time were completely about the staff, the intricacies, and how it functioned. In full preparation for her display to the Commanders and the Captain, Moira had figured. It was well thought out, Ziegler was going to impress them, and Moira knew it. 

She mulled around Ziegler’s side of the lab for a few good minutes, reading up on everything, muttering in blends of English and Gaelic, before moving back to her side.

Now that her unofficial official work was done, it was time to move on to something actually meaningful. First, she needed to care for the rabbits in the other room. Poor dears must have been lonely that morning. 

\--- --- ---

Moira worked for hours, caring for the animals under her supervision, looking into their genetic structure, and finding a way to eliminate certain errors without causing damage. She had so far found color blindness in a few of her rats, and had since been trying to change that on a genetic scale, or find out how to disrupt the error. She had been so lost in her progress, that Moira had forgotten what time it was. 

Which, by the time she looked at the clock, she found it quite strange. 

01:32, Ziegler would have been back to the lab twice already, once to silently cheer and rejoice in whatever approval she received from the higher-ups and ass kissers, and another to finalize her projects, grab her laptop, and go to her room; if not start another update for her nanites.

But she just updated them a few days ago in preparation for the staff. Furthermore, she didn’t start a program when she left, Moira knew that much. The nanites would be tinking haywire and disrupting her train of thought every time she started one. 

So, with her laptop left here, and no return, Ziegler must have been kept in the Medical Bay. 

Moira wasn’t sure what possessed her, but she got up from her desk, stretching her back and letting out a soft groan. Her body whined and growled for something to eat, seeing as she hadn’t eaten since before she arrived back at the base. But that wasn’t her concern. It seldom ever was. She walked over to Ziegler’s desk, shutting her laptop and putting it in the bag left to the side. She had to admit, for being so young, everything she had owned spoke volumes… The theme of her laptop, and the tone of her bag. There was a small hit of personality with a Saint Bernard charm off the side, almost hidden. 

A small token of her personal life, Moira theorized. 

She slung it over her shoulder, pulling her ID to let herself out of the lab and search for Ziegler. 

She passed by no one on her way to the Medical Bay, and was thankful for her higher clearance, making the doors to the Bay open upon her ID being scanned. She scouted through the rooms, the lights off in many, but the office light on in one room in particular. Moira stepped closer, thinking Ziegler would be inside, only to read the name on the metallic label. 

Wilson, Marceline M.D. 

Not Ziegler, but perhaps a colleague? 

She rapped on the door twice, waiting before the lock made an audible clunk. A short woman with dark grey hair had opened the door, eyes quickly moving up to find Moira’s, so much higher. “Oh, Doctor O’Deorain.” Wilson cleared her throat promptly. “What brings you here at this hour? Are you ill?” 

“No,” Moira responded. “I’m looking for Doctor Ziegler. Have you seen her?” 

“Angela?” Wilson scrunched her eyebrows together in thought, tapping her foot briefly. “... She did rush in earlier and put this weird rod in her office. She went somewhere in the back, and ran out just as quick as she had come in.” She looked back up at Moira, eyebrow cocked up. “Is something wrong?” 

Moira, ever the actress, shook her head to shake away any sort of concern she might’ve had. Might’ve? Nonsense. She didn’t have any at all. “No. Her laptop has been making noises for the past several hours. I only wished to return it to her.” Moira responded, patting the bag to her side. 

Wilson looked at it, examining it briefly before she seemed to recognize the bag. “Oh! Well, no. I haven’t seen her since she dropped off that strange device. I do hope you find her.” Wilson bid before shutting the door. It was almost slammed, and the lock was heard to be mildly jostled. 

Moira had enough of a reputation that she could hardly blame her. 

Well, with one dead end, and Ziegler having suspiciously been ‘rummaging around in the back’, that could only mean one end. 

She was in her room and merely neglected to collect her belongings. It was only right of her to return them, Moira told herself. No matter how much the knot in her abdomen told her for any other reason. 

Moira made the brisk walk through the Medical halls all the way to the bunks, scrounging for Ziegler’s name in all the mess. You’d think that with a last name starting with Z, it would be easy to find at one end or another… 

It took her over twenty minutes to find the bunk she was looking for, the panel highlighted with Ziegler’s name, credentials, and her official photo that was the same upon her ID. It was one of the rare few ones with only one name on it as well. There was a red light on over the access panel as well, telling Moira that her door was inaccessible to anyone. 

Well, anyone without Medical clearance. 

Before using her position, Moira knocked on the door and patiently waited for a response. She waited for what felt like ages of no answer before she knocked again, growing more and more impatient as time went on. She tapped her foot, glancing down the dimly lit hallway, hoping, thinking Ziegler would answer soon. 

She didn’t. 

So, Moira did the only appropriate thing she could think of, and that was opening the door herself. All she would do was put the laptop on the desk and leave if she was asleep. Nothing more. 

The door clunked, releasing the electric lock as the light went yellow. Moira passed through the threshold, the door sliding halfway closed before the motion sensor of the lights flickered on. 

The metallic smell registered first, then did the rest of the sight. 

There lay Ziegler, curled as much as her body would allow against the frame of her bed, arms covered in blotchy red with mostly dried blood around her. 

For a moment, she did let concern race over her as she crouched to Angela’s side, quickly pressing fingers to a pale neck, and her ear right next to Ziegler’s mouth. Her pulse was weak, but there. Her breath was also present, slow and deep as if she had just decided to take a nap on the floor. In her own blood. 

Moira got to work shortly thereafter, thinking for a moment as the adrenaline rushed through her body that Angela might’ve just done this, she might still be bleeding, that she’d need medical assistance. But as she moved the drenched gauze pads away from her forearms, she was met with a quite… interesting sight. 

Along her arms where Moira expected to find bone-deep cuts, were golden scars, still red and inflamed around the edges, looking ever so fragile. So fragile, in fact, that Moira bet if she tugged on Ziegler’s skin too hard, she’d rip it all back open. 

“You… actual brilliant idiot…” Moira muttered under her breath as she examined it, barely running her fingers along the golden line. Not only had Ziegler managed to survive deep cuts to both of her arms, self-inflicted, in a way that would surely grant suicide, but however many nanites she had in her body was also enough to keep from bleeding out completely. But not enough to prevent her from passing out. 

Moira cleaned up her arms the best she could, despite some of it getting stained on her own black shirt, albeit barely. She found fresh gauze to pad the fresh, tender scars with before she ever so gently hoisted her up. It was a struggle, taking every ounce of strength she had, to place Angela on her bed in a way that wouldn’t be a detriment to her health. After that, Moira glanced at the mess on the floor… at least she was smart enough to keep her blood off with plastic tarp. Ziegler seemed to have this all thought out. Moira carefully wrapped it up as best she could without spilling whatever wasn't dried out, placing it all in another biohazard bag Ziegler had sitting elsewhere. She really had thought this through. 

Evidence told Moira that this was a test. Ziegler clearly wasn’t trying to kill herself. Why would she, she was brilliant and excelled in every way, her science was revolutionary. Her life here in Overwatch was good. 

This had to be a test of her nanite’s reaction or strength. It was absolutely fucking foolish of her to do so, Moira noted to herself. But, progress was progress. If this was really a test, then Ziegler must have planned for if she lost too much blood and became light-headed. 

The mini-fridge under her desk was awfully convenient.. 

As was the needle and IV kit readied on Ziegler’s desk where her laptop would be. 

She was an actual fool, but an intelligent one, Moira had decided.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'm gonna wind up doing a few chapters like this, where I write in Moira's POV instead of Angela's for a rhyme or reason. Hopefully, yall won't mind! Comments and Suggestions are always welcomed <3


	18. Demon's Enchantment.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela wakes up to find herself cared for, her arms bandaged, and the culprit to finding her condition ahead of her....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Self-control? What's that? I don't know what that is. Here's another chapter and NOW we're finally tired enough to get into bed. I hope you guys enjoy it! <3

Just as curiosity killed the cat, satisfaction brought it back. 

Angela woke slowly, groggily almost, as she opened her eyes. The light in her room was more blinding than she had ever remembered it being. Slowly she stirred, trying to recall how she was, and how she was now. Wasn’t she on the floor…? Wait, wasn’t she bleeding out too? 

She forced herself up, ignoring the swimming in her head as she glanced down at herself. She was covered vaguely with her lab coat and a blanket at her feet, and the mess about her floor was completely absent. That was strange, hadn’t she, didn't…? Didn’t Angela nearly just bleed out? Or was that all somehow some hallucination? 

It had to have been, Angela wouldn’t nearly be that stupid to have killed herself. 

She tugged herself closer to her bed, only to find a small tug in her arm. She lifted her coat, just to see both of her arms bandaged securely with gauze. Which, in hindsight, she should have felt, but her senses had yet to come back to her in full after what she experienced. She looked as she finally examined the needle pinned to her, eyes leading up to a pinned up blood bag, mostly drained. A transfusion? Angela didn’t remember doing any of that. Meaning…

Someone had been in her room. 

Her heart beat faster as she thought of who, anyone could have opened her door. Anyone from the medical wing, Commander Reyes, Jack, Ana… Anyone. She could be fired the moment she recovered. They had the decency to leave her in her room and her shame, for now. Especially since she didn’t have a shirt on… 

She sat up in her bed completely now, letting her coat drop and pool in her lap. Angela shivered as cool air reached her skin, and she stared down at her bandaged arms. She really, really wanted to know what it looked like under there, if it were stitches or scars, and if there were scars, who had sewed her skin? Only the gods knew what they were thinking of right now. 

As if emotion had rushed to her in delayed form, Angela started crying. Sobbing, even, an overwhelming amount as she clenched her hands weakly into fists. “**I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.**” She spoke, almost to no one in particular. “**I… I didn’t mean to nearly see you, not like that. I’m so sorry for disappointing you…!**” She choked out in between her sobs. Apologies to her parents that she knew they’d never hear. They were dead. 

Just like she had nearly been; she felt so damn guilty about it. 

She cried like that for a good few minutes, letting the tears roll down her cheeks and into her lap, feeling so many repressed feelings jump her and grow like wildfire. Her heart ached, and all she wanted to do was to curl up and hide from the world and her shame. But if she moved around too much, she knew she’d agitate her arms further. She might tear something, and bleed out all over again. She didn’t want that, she’d never wanted that ever again. 

The door opened, disrupting her cries and stunning her into silence. It was one thing to see her body mangled, she didn’t want to let this person see her cry. 

To her surprise, it wasn’t any of the medical staff, or even Ana or Jack. O’Deorain stood before her, a bag over her shoulder, and a strange expression on her face. It… seemed to be intrigue laced with concern. “Ah, Ziegler,” O’Deorain said, merely as if she were greeting her for the first time in the morning. “Glad to see you finally conscious again.” 

“D...Doctor O’Deorain, I…” Angela clenched her fists. There was nothing she could say, nothing she could do to dig herself out of the hole she had fallen into. Of course, _of fucking course_, it had to be Moira O’Deorain, the one person on the entire island who hated her very guts and being, who had found her broken and emptied of blood. It made the tears well in her eyes, hot as fire, but she wouldn’t dare let them fall. “I… I can explain, I … I wasn't…” She found herself trying to excuse the act. “My… I just… I needed…” 

Oddly enough, O’Deorain didn’t give her the typical disproving or dismissed look. Instead, she raised a hand as she set the bag she carried with her on the foot of the bed. “Save it, I already know what you were doing. I know you weren’t trying to end your life.” O’Deorain explained, digging through the bag shortly after. “Trust me. Your room was too thoroughly prepared. You had control of the situation until you bled too much.” 

That got her thinking, and a whole new feeling blossomed in her chest, intense as both fear and anxiety took over. “Y… You know…?” Angela’s voice was a tiny murmur. 

O’Deorain nodded as she set up a fresh IV line, the bag hung near where the blood bag was, and she set quickly to work in swapping the two out. It was done with quick precision that Angela wouldn’t have thought possible for O’Deorain, seeing as she really wasn’t medically trained at all. Or, well, Angela was left with the impression that she wasn’t since she was never sent on missions. “You really need to close your laptop each time you leave it in abandon on your desk,” she noted dully, clearing the current IV needle in Angela’s elbow without warning with saline. The cold feeling made her ears pop. “And you aren’t exactly subtle when you leave for hours at a time to merely replace your medical pack for missions. I’ve known.” 

Angela found herself overwhelmed, and she reached with her left hand to cling at O’Deorain’s sleeve. “Please.” She sounded exasperated. “Please don't tell Captain Amari. I… I don’t know what she’ll do to me if she found out. Please, Doctor O’Deorain.” How pathetic of her to beg. 

Their eyes met, and for once Angela found a common sympathy behind those mismatched eyes that ever so often gave her a cold look of scorn. It was so strong, she felt her cheeks heat, and she quickly let go of her sleeve. 

“I don’t plan on telling anyone about your experiments, Doctor Ziegler.” She said simply, plugging in the IV and replacing the bag where the blood would hang. The fluids came to her before long and she almost wanted to relax and let herself get replenished. But… her anxiety did little to calm even as O’Deorain so kindly loomed. 

“Then…” Angela swallowed. “... What… what are you going to do about this…? You can’t keep it to yourself?” 

O’Deorain reached in the bag for something else, pulling out a syringe of gold… Her nanites!? But… why? She worked her way to the IV bag, slowly pushing them into the mix to get them into Angela’s system as well as the bag drained. She found so many mixed motions fill her that she wanted to throw up. Her stomach turned but nothing wanted to threat itself in her throat, so she sat there, looking dumb up at O’Deorain who poked at her IV bag, getting the settings just right before leaving it alone. 

Soon enough, after she seemed finished in her care of Angela, O’Deorain sat at her desk chair, making sure to still face her as she propped one leg up on her knee. “Doctor Ziegler, I’m not going to tell anyone. I just told you that.” O’Deorain started out, completely honest in her response. The firmness made Angela sit up straighter in her own bed. “But, I will tell you, you are the most irresponsible, reckless, difficult brat of a scientist and doctor I have met. Your overeagerness and lack to perform your tests in a safe laboratory environment nearly cost you your life, or at least your reputation.” 

Angela listened intently, even if she didn’t want to. This was what she expected from O’Deorain, a good ass ripping then back to business as usual; allowing Angela to clean up the rest of her mess and deal with the aftermath of her decisions. 

“However.” That made Angela look up, meeting O’Deorain’s intense gaze again. But … it was soft. “That doesn’t mean I don’t respect the effort you’ve taken, and how far you’ve come up to this point, injecting yourself in your private quarters without supervision. You of all people would be an advocate against self-experimentation, and you’re living it daily. Your work is extraordinary and has saved your life. That much I can give you.” O’Deorain gestured vaguely to Angela’s arms. 

Out of her own innate curiosity, Angela tugged at the bandages of her left arm, letting them fall to pieces as she admired what had happened. A deep, golden scar, straight up her forearm. So her nanites had reacted properly after all! She carefully ran her thumb over slightly agitated, barely knitted flesh. It was warm and angry under her touch, but that was to be expected. She had genuinely thought she would nearly have died… the blood transfusion…! “Wait.” Angela said, almost firm. “If my wounds healed, why did you give me the transfusion?” 

O’Deorain shrugged. “You were extremely pale, Doctor Ziegler. You needed something, and you had already pulled it for yourself. Might as well have used it.” she shrugged, leaning back in the chair. 

Angela could still feel her eyes on her, even as she looked down and examined her arm further. The gold was more evident than ever before, even more opaque than the mark on her side and the scar on her leg. It was intense… She really needed to add to her notes, but… 

“I know that look in your eye.” O’Deorain had sprouted, almost without prompting. Angela looked up again, only to find her reaching over something… somewhere… Her bag? O’Deorain got up, placing Angela’s bag in her lap. The weight told her that her laptop was also inside. Quickly, albeit carefully, she pulled her laptop from the bag and settled against the wall further. It was almost peaceful and familiar as she settled, and curiously she looked up at O’Deorain, flushing. 

“... Is this how you found me?” She gestured with her laptop. “Trying to return this to me?” 

O’Deorain nodded, putting her hands in her pockets. “Yes. I wanted to return it to you. You never leave it alone for that long, after all.” O’Deorain said. “I came to your room and saw your state. Abysmal, I must say. But you were prepared as you could have been for such events.” 

Angela held back a smile, but couldn’t stop the slightly curved smirk she gained. “Be careful, O’Deorain.” she finally got some shred of confidence back, just enough to joke lightly. “I might actually think you think positively of me.” 

At that, it seemed O’Deorain tilted her head. “For your work, of course I do,” O’Deorain responded as cooly as she could. For whatever reason the tone she used made the rush of cold over her body go warm, she felt her cheeks heat. Why…? “I recommend you perform your next risky test in the lab, where you’ll at least have one person supervising your stupidity, even if you are prepared.” O’Deorain commented, and all of a sudden, any trace of emotion that O’Deorain had in her voice, any concern, was suddenly absent and blank. It seemed a light pink color had cropped up over freckled cheeks. 

All it did was make her stand straighter, cover her mouth politely and clear her throat, unsure of what else to say. She kept her head down as she pushed her way through Angela’s room, leaving her now with only her IV and her laptop, saying nothing more but a quick ‘Goodbye’ as she departed.

What a de-escalation… Not that Angela minded completely, she hated how hot her face felt right then. Not to mention, this was her personal space of course. She heard the magnetic locks trigger without hesitation once O’Deorain left, and Angela finally allowed herself to breathe properly. She had so many feelings, so many words… and so much data to write down. 

She had, after all, gotten precisely what she wanted. Results. Now that O’Deorain was in on her secret, and supposedly swore to not tell a soul… what would Angela have to worry about now? 

Maybe it had something to do with the Nanites now pushing through into her system as well. 

\--- --- --- 

After a few hours of sleeping, and a quick shower to finish getting the grime of dried blood off of her person, Angela had found herself walking into the lab around 08:00, before O’Deorain would arrive, on her very particular internal schedule. 

Angela set up, just like any other day. Her laptop open before her, her notes halfway typed (with a key long pressed from her passing out), and she was already furiously typing away to get herself back up to speed. She was thankful her coat had longer sleeves, unrolled for the day to hide her new ‘scientific evidence’. The skin itself was still slightly inflamed, the golden scars bright against her pale skin. She was still ridiculously pale, despite the transfusion and the rest. Angela couldn’t think of what she was missing after all this time. SHe didn’t even grab coffee this morning, opting for a bottle of water instead. 

She paid it little mind as she typed away, barely even noticing when O’Deorain had finally entered the lab. It wasn’t until she made a beeline towards Angela’s desk that she actually noticed her looming figure. Angela felt her cheeks heat slightly as O’Deorain towered over her, and carried a bag. It looked... Almost something thermal. 

“Good morning, Doctor O’Deorain.” Angela greeted, hoping to push aside the awkward encounter in her bedroom only hours ago. She didn’t want any reminders of how helpless she was, completely at O’Deorain’s mercy for the better part of… what, eight whole hours? Interesting what passing out from blood loss with no replenishment could do for you. 

O’Deorain nodded in return. “Good morning, Doctor Ziegler.” Same hard tone as usual. Maybe she too wished to ignore the fact she had tended to her coworker, shirtless, for the better part of the night after performing a dangerous act of stupidity. Or, well, that’s what it appeared to be. She reached into her thermal bag, pulling out a Tupperware container and a thermos, all sat to the side of Angela’s computer, but away from any research papers. 

Angela curiously looked up at her, eyebrow cocked in confusion. “What… Is this?” She asked, fingers reaching out and drumming the top of the Tupperware, just once.

“Breakfast,” O’Deorain responded, tucking herself back properly after zipping her bag closed. “Don't think I don’t know you well enough to know that you almost always skip breakfast around here. After losing so much blood, I think you would know better than anyone that you need to eat.” O’Deorain explained, folding her hands neatly behind her back as she always did, radiating such superior confidence. 

Angela’s face blushed darkly, the heat radiating off of her skin as she looked between O’Deorain and the food given to her… and, there was no way the drink inside that thermos was anything but coffee. “Th… Thank you, Doctor O’Deorain.” Angela responded quietly, reaching for the thermos. “... You don’t have to look after me like this, you know.” Angela mumbled, hoping that she didn’t hear.

Be it O’deorain heard or not, she didn’t respond, and Angela looked again at the Tupperware container before her. She opened the thermos, instantly identifying the smell of low-quality Overwatch imported coffee… but it was coffee none the less. Without much more prompting, she waited until O’Deorain was at her desk completely before opening up the breakfast treat before her. It appeared to be a full breakfast, even with a piece of toast sticking up from the corner. The smell of it was delightful…! 

Angela wasted little time in consuming her meal with the gusto of an intern racing to head back to the pit, feeling a little more at home now that she had this meal to gorge on. It wasn’t the best thing in the world, but it was so much better than most of the food they served here. Where O’Deorain had gotten this, she’d never know, and she had a feeling she didn’t want to know. It had to be early take-out of some kind. Maybe that was why she never got to the lab any sooner than 08:30. Regardless of how O’Deorain had acquired the food, it tasted good. 

Good enough for Angela to finish without leaving a scrap, and she felt far better afterward, drowning out the taste of beans and toast with the coffee. It tasted like crap, but everything else tasted so good, Angela felt like she could forgive O’Deorain’s choice in coffee; as if there was much of a choice around the base to begin with. 

Politely enough, O’Deorain said nothing as Angela ate, leaving them in a near blissful silence afterward. Angela turned her attention completely back towards her notes, feeling almost perfect after her meal. Everything was right with the world, and for once, she felt at ease working in the lab as she heard O’Deorain begin her daily routine through the lab, checking on the animals and beginning her on lab work. 

Everything was good. Everything was right. Her test was a pass, and she knew now that she could survive severe injury… even if she did pass out from blood loss. 

It nearly startled her when O’Deorain spoke from across the room. “You know, I may not have to look after you, but If I don't, then who will get into clinical trial debates with me?”

Angela looked up, just to meet O’Deorain’s eye, and a classy smirk. Something akin to smugness written in her features. Angela felt it rise in her as she grinned right back. “You’d be too bored trying to find someone with enough brainpower to fight with.” She said, almost with a hint of pride behind her words. 

The mutual look between them spoke volumes, and nothing else needed to be said. Angela turned her head back to her laptop, smiling at the words written so far on her document. A note to the side reminded her to thank O’Deorain properly for her treatment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully yall don't mind my quick work. I was really feeling it after work tonight. But now my back is sore and the day is catching up with me. Its time to feed my doggo and go to bed. I hope you all enjoyed the chapter and yall are digging the story. 55K and we FINALLY have something. Perhaps 
> 
> Comments and Suggestions are always welcome you guys, thank you so much as always.


	19. Weeks To Months...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela's birthday has come up... and everyone has seemed to remember it except for Angela herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took a week to get the next chapter out! Work really is a bitch. Guess what, SO IS GETTING A STENT REMOVED! Yeet. Anyway, have a nice day yall enjoy.

The next few weeks had Angela in one of the most relaxing situations she had been in since joining Overwatch, despite her high-risk profile of self-experimentation. Thankfully, she had a new ally on her side, willing to protect that secret under the guise of progress. 

Moira had always been a strange person, Angela read it in her articles she published and even listened in on a recording of one of her seminars on a night she couldn’t sleep. Funny enough, her voice was actually nice when she wasn’t degrading, or when she wasn’t ridiculing someone for something or another. Angela grew to appreciate the small trade-offs, the slight compliments, and the occasional stare too long as her tank of nanites clicked in their updating progress. Like right now. 

Angela looked up, seeing Moira’s gaze focused on her and her alone, not necessarily the tank. As their eyes had met up, Moira looked back down without a moment’s thought. It was almost as if she was trying to hide, and Angela didn’t mind. They didn’t really have that many words to trade-off after that morning, and she had yet to bring Angela another full-bodied breakfast like that. In fact, she didn’t bring anything at all. So close to finally opening up that mysterious little lock that was Moira O’Deorain, and it had all stagnated. 

It didn’t really matter, not in the end. They weren’t nearly as irritated together, and Moira finally managed to offer some constructive criticism over straight assholery. Although, she still left notes in atrocious, unreadable scrawl. 

At least it was in English, this last time she had left the notes on her work, it was in nearly indecipherable Gaelic. Even if it was, Angela was starting to figure out what words meant what through context clues. Still, she appreciated the sentiment as she took notes on the scribbles left to the side. She’d have to properly criticize Moira on her penmanship later, provided she found the time. 

Ignoring the feeling of her heated gaze on her own, Angela finished up a document, a recent development following the previous mission she went with Rizzo's team. Ana was fully healed so there was no need for Angela to return to the Strike Team that she filled in for. Though, with time, Angela hoped to prove herself without becoming a detriment. To both Ana and Jack. She sent the email to Ana summing up her medic reports, then turned her attention to the loading bar of her nanites update. It was going well enough that she felt a bit of pride. This was more of a reinforcement update, she didn't feel the need to give herself this batch this time around. 

She lowered the lid of her laptop only for the door of the lab to open, revealing both Reinhardt and Ana. There was a smile far too wide on his face for this to be a simple visit. 

Actually, it was strange that Reinhardt was even with Ana at all. 

"Captain. Oaf." Moira had said without one mark of hesitation. She didn't move, but it seemed she didn't need to in order to know just who walked in. "To what do I owe the displeasure of having you in my lab?" 

Angela tried to withhold a chuckle as Ana frowned, squinting very slightly at Moira from the side. "Not to disturb your work, Doctor O'Deorain. We're here for Doctor Ziegler." 

She instantly perked up at her name. "Me?" Angela said softly, squeezing her fist tight under her desk. Technically there was no reason for her to be afraid, if she was in trouble, Reinhardt wouldn't be here. And he certainly wouldn't still have that smile on his face. 

"Yes, you" Ana responded with a proper nod. "Just follow me, I promise it won't dig too far into your research." 

"No no It's alright." Angela quickly stated, standing up. "My Nanites are updating, I can't do anything until it's finished." She explained, sticking her hands in her pockets. 

Reinhardt's smile somehow grew bigger, and even infectious as Angela's own face spread to a soft smile. She followed them out of the lab, hardly giving Moira a glance as the doors closed. She wouldn't be missed, she already knew that for a fact. Just because Moira had helped her recover from her reckless experiment didn't mean their personal relationship had improved all that much. For all she knew, Moira just didn't want her research to go to waste. Mildly thoughtful, albeit disturbing. 

Angela was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn't hear Ana and Reinhardt muttering ahead of her, despite the difference in their heights. Rather, it wasn't that she didn't notice, she just wasn't paying attention to what they were saying. As they walked down the hall and passed a few other members along the base, some of them have a soft wage to her, or even greeting her. What strange behavior… surely she didn't have that many friends around base. Hell, Reinhardt was barely her friend she thought. 

The strange behavior and slight greeting only became stranger as Reinhardt and Ana stopped before one of the rec room doors, looking at Angela with a bit of a smile on both of their faces. She was even more confused. What was going on?

"Angela. We know you haven't been around that long," Ana started off almost too kindly. "But, you've made quite the impression. You've done a lot for many soldiers without much in return-"

"I don't need anything in return, really," Angela said, interjecting quite suddenly. It made sense. A surprise party, why else was everyone being so kind? But just for being one of the most favored doctors on base didn't seem like a good reason to just throw a party. "I'm happy to do my work. It's what I trained my life for." 

Ana nodded, but her smile didn't shake. "I don't think you'd oppose a birthday party though, would you Angela?" 

_Now_ everything made sense. 

"Scheiße." Angela swore quickly under her breath. Her birthday today, how could she have forgotten? It was _her_ birthday. 

Ana and Reinhardt moved to open the door, showing the rec room filled with Angela's closest colleagues and even a few teammates from the field, including Rizzo. Even Torbjörn was to the side somewhere. It was a miracle she even saw him amongst everyone else who was much taller. She felt her heart swell in a strange way, but... it wasn't something good. She knew that. It was sweet, what they all did for her. But just something didn't feel right. 

Everyone erupted in a chorus of "Happy Birthday" once they realized Angela had arrived, making her flush as they carried on shortly after. It gave her rather daunting memories of a night in college that she rather had not repeated… Not that she had attended those social disasters too often on her part, but her roommate did require it as payment for getting her cigarettes. 

Carefully, she maneuvered, trying to avoid having to converse with anyone she hardly knew. Although, It seemed Reinhardt wished to tag along with her for the venture. “**What’s wrong, Angela?**” he asked her in such a soothing tone that it almost didn’t sound like him. “**You celebrate your birthday, don't you?**

Angela bit her lip, leaning against a table briefly as she watched a few other doctors, her squad members, mingle and interact with each other. She sighed shortly after, shaking her head. “**No. I haven’t celebrated my birthday since my parents passed. I honestly even forgot about it…**” Angela said solemnly, turning and grabbing a glass. She knew what it was as she picked it up, a strong scent of rose clung to it. Wine. Perhaps Ana didn’t expect her to go back to work. 

After the thoughts she was having, she certainly didn’t want to. 

She downed half the contents of the glass without a moment of hesitation, gaining a gaze from Reinhardt that bordered on concerned. “**You don’t have to stay that long, Ana is getting a cake she baked. I’m sure she won’t mind if you left after that.**” 

God, a cake too? Angela wanted to groan and stifled it into the rim of her glass. “**Crowds… aren’t my strong suit.**” Angela responded quietly. 

Reinhardt nodded his understanding, but he was gracious enough to not pick up a glass, crossing his arms and looking at her with a cautious eye still. As cautious as he could, anyway. She continued to sip on her glass till the warmth spread across her cheeks and she was able to sigh without concern. No, just one flimsy glass wasn’t going to do anything. But at least she could prepare herself, mentally. A cake. Of course, Ana would be so extravagant and do a cake for her. 

While she waited for Ana to reappear with said gift, others passed by, greeting her and giving her another token of happy birthday, some even pointing out the gift table. Angela didn’t want to think about the presents they tried to get her… Even if they had any idea on what she liked and who she really was. Gifts were empty and hollow to her at this point… Fifteen years without them and all of a sudden…? She needed another glass just to bear it. 

Two glasses in, Ana had made a loud commotion when she reappeared, a small cake in her hands and the candles lit. She started a song of happy birthday, as the rest of the soldiers and doctors chimed in to create a harmonious song. It was sweet, really. Angela appreciated the thought. 

Eventually, Ana stood before her with the cake outstretched. At least the frosting looked to be chocolate, there might be something minuscule to enjoy about this. Her name was in white icing, obviously hand done, Ana really did put some effort into all of this, didn’t she? 

She felt a pit in her stomach as if something was still so wrong about the whole ordeal. She felt wrong, blowing the candles out and letting everyone cheer for her after. Wrong. All of it was so _wrong_. 

Angela grabbed another glass of wine just for herself. 

\--- --- --- 

Angela had never been able to really hold her liquor, which is why she was so surprised to stay steady enough to get back to her room after two hours' worth of socialization, cake eating, and dread that something was off in her celebrations. Reinhardt had followed her, carrying the gifts she had neglected to open in front of people. She was concerned that the more intoxicated she became, the worse she’d react to gifts she didn’t like and wanted to take care of it in private. Not only that, but Reinhardt wanted to keep an eye on her. She knew well enough when someone was concerned. It wasn’t the first time. 

She pressed her ID on the door, letting it open to a dull room with notes scattered across her desk, and a full scale drawing of the wings on the side on a big note board. 

Reinhardt didn’t react to the slight mess that Angela let him into, he just deposited the boxes on her desk and glanced over to her. “Are you sure you don’t need anything else, Angela?” Reinhardt asked curiously. 

“I’m sure, Reinhardt. Danke.” Angela’s words were just slightly slurred, and she took a second to sit on her bed, pulling her knees up to her chest. “I… I just need to rest.” 

Reinhardt nodded to her, taking a deep breath before turning out. “You know where to find me, without getting hurt?” 

"Ja." Angela responded softly, nodding along even though it made her slightly dizzy. 

He sighed, giving her shoulder a gentle Pat before making his way out of her bedroom. There was seldom else he could do anyhow, and Angela knew that. It was barely the evening hours, and she had plenty more study she could have been doing if she wanted to. But she knew better than to turn back up in that lab, intoxicated and at Moira's vague mercy. The thought even made her snort through her nose. Moira wouldn't let her live it down, coming to work drunk. It was bad enough she kept her smoking habit as far from her as possible, but if she knew about the injections then surely she knows about the smoking. Among other things. Angela wouldn't be surprised if she knew her just like a favorite book by now. Or if she had spying devices holed up in her room somewhere. Maybe a mini microphone pinned to her jacket. 

She shook her head, holding off a laugh. "That's too stilly even for Moira…" She mumbled to herself, wrapping her arms around her knees and pushing herself to the wall. The room really wasn't that big in the grand scheme of things, but she felt small even in this adjusted space. Left alone with nothing but her thoughts and her demons, Angela slowly grew cold, despite her bunched-up state. 

So, to distract herself from the claws of anxiety, she got up and moved to the presents on her desk (careful to not stumble into her desk chair in the process…). The first was a small gift, just from Ana herself. Curiously, Angela pulled the bow off of it and let the box fall open. A new ID laid inside, despite the same picture. It held a new title to go with it, "Head of Medical Research/ M2 Strike Team". 

She raised an eyebrow, examining what that would mean. It didn't click for a solid minute or two before the realized what it stood for. Medic Two. Which meant she was moving on from her previous team, to join Ana on the sidelines should they need an extra medic in the primary strike team. It chilled her to the core, but the honor was… appreciated. Even if it gave her another pit in her stomach to ignore. 

The other gifts were small and menial. A few Overwatch issued shirts for cold weather with the Logo upon the neck in some, on the left breast to the other. A new stethoscope with her status carved into the middle, from the other doctors no doubt hearing her mutter about the faulty left side. A few odds and ends, and at the bottom was a larger box… from "The Lindholms". Strange, Angela had yet to meet the rest of Torbjörn's family. 

Despite that fact, Angela opened it anyway, and was met with a rather… heartfelt sight. A sweater, it appeared hand-knitted, in a soft red color and an A embroidered on gold on the left side. With it came a note in a soft pink envelope… clearly a woman's note from Angela's point of view. She opened it in hopes she could still read. 

"_Angela,  
We haven’t met, but I do hope to see you around Christmas time. Torbjörn has told me many wonderful things about you, and tells me you remind him of Camilla! I heard he’s also making you a suit of armor that can fly, how wonderful. I thought for your birthday you’d like a home touch. Brigitte helped with the letter. Happy birthday. _

_-Ingrid_

Was her face wet? Angela wiped her cheek with the sleeve of her coat, thumbing the letter then looking at the hand-knitted sweater before her. She hadn’t had anything this nice given to her in a long time… Fuck. She really was crying now...

Angela let out a soft hiccup of a sob, putting it back in her box before she abandoned all the gifts altogether. She’d sort through her emotions another time when she felt more prepared for them. But now, she couldn’t. Drunk, confused, and mildly stressed out, Angela couldn’t bear the thought of her birthday now, what it meant, just how much time had passed. 

So she did the next thing that she could think of, getting herself changed into her nightclothes. If she was drunk, she surely couldn’t manage to do anything else worthwhile. Ana surely didn’t expect her back any time soon… and hopefully neither did Moira. 

Once in proper clothing to sleep in, Angela didn’t even turn out the light before she shut her eyes and curled up under the blankets. Everything for the day was a nice thought, and she appreciated Ana for taking the time to plan something so sweet for her. If only she had remembered it herself, maybe she’d not be a disaster at this moment. She wouldn’t be feeling odd things of remorse tug at her heart… She knew it was irrational too! There was nothing she could have done. 

Angela let out just one more hiccup, squeezing the blankets tighter in fistfuls as she shut her eyes. That sweater really was a sweet gift… she just wasn’t in the right mindset for it. Perhaps after a nap to sober her up, she’d be fine and appreciate it more. 

She really hoped she would be, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had more words planned then my brain shat itself and we also came up with ANOTHER idea so. We're moving that into the next chapter. It's okay, we're gonna get words going somehow. Thank you all for reading and comments and suggestions are still always welcome. Hopefully the tired writing fit well with Angela's drunk state!


	20. Repercussions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela faces the actions of her consequences of getting drunk... and drunker still.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya! Sorry that this took a little while to get out. I was stuck trying to get the scenes right. Hopefully you guys enjoy!

_**”Mama? Papa!?**” Angela’s words were loud, echoed in broken ruins of the hallway. Lights were broken, glass scattered…. She knew this scene well but for the life of her couldn't remember it. The distinct smell of blood was in the air, freshly spilled, along with the scent of broken down rubble and gunpowder. It wasn't a tasteful scent. _

_Angela started running down the hallway, her clogs crunching the glass that she cared too little if she stepped on. Her pace was that as if she was answering a page to an emergency. Technically, this was the way to the pit… a dead body of a woman she vaguely recognized lay slumped on the floor, and she could barely hear a wheeze of her name, spoken in true form. Tears pricked at her eyes, vague remembrance pulling at her heart. She had to keep going. She couldn't stop, she couldn't be caught. _

_She came to a fork and she moved down the left side, and her heart sunk even lower than before. More bodies were piled and she had a distinct feeling in the pit of her stomach… among the bodies, she recognized two, and not only that… but there was a form of herself, or what appeared to be herself, standing in front of the rubble. It would look more like her… if it weren't for the darker hair? _

_"**Why did you forget…?**"_

_Why was she asking that question? Forget what? Even without prompting, Angela felt her heart and emotions spill. Tears coated her cheeks as she hiccuped. "**I didn't mean to! I'm sorry!**"_

_Little care did that form of her have, crying her own tears in response. Tears of… blood? Angela scrambled for her, crouching down and wiping her eyes despite the tears on her own. Oddly enough, her younger mirror did the same, wiping Angela's tears from her face. But the little girl's, her tears wouldn't stop. They kept coming and coming until a color fades her hair matched the same level of blood pouring from her eyes._

_Angela felt her hands stop, just cupping her cheeks then. Why was this familiar? And why did it hurt and make her want to cry even more…? _

_The small one's skin went pale, her eyes dark, and Angela felt the tears rush more. “**No! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to forget!**” Angela moved to pull her into a hug, squeezing her tight and feeling just as small as she was when this had all happened. The scent filled her and she was beyond distracted… The body faded before long as she left herself to scream._

\--- --- 

“NO!” Angela shot upright, tossing the blankets and making herself dizzy in the whole process. The lights flickered on at her sudden movement, seeing as they were on a motion-sensing timer. It proved to make her jump further with a squeak. Tears were still running down her face, even as she woke up, rationalized herself… who was she kidding, she couldn’t rationalize shit. 

She was terrified and tense, something from her past having crept on her. She hadn’t had a nightmare that vivid in a while… and just as it was behind her eyes it faded from her memory. She couldn’t remember hardly anything about it. She had forgotten, that was all she knew, and she felt awful. 

Angela caught her breath, knowing how hard and shallow she was breathing. It had to calm down… But damn if she didn’t feel like she was choking on nothing at all. She needed the scent and smell of blood and concrete out of her mind. 

Quickly, she got up, almost running into her wardrobe, and moved to her lab coat. She reached and grabbed her pack of cigarettes from the inside pocket, not even bothering to even grab socks as she made her way out of her room. She found herself halfway leaning against the wall as she went out the hallway, towards the long winding trail that would lead her outside. Hell, she wasn’t even sure how long she’d been asleep for. The empty halls and dimmed lights told her for long enough that everyone else was resting now… Thinking of the time was enough to keep her from thinking about the feeling in her chest or how her head was pounding. Be it from the scent or the impending headache from her alcohol intake, Angela didn’t want to know. 

She finally shoved the door open, a rush of fresh air clearing her head just a little. She took a deep breath, the first she could since waking up, and letting it back out with a shake. Her hands fumbled as she struggled to get the tiny stick out of the package, and even further to light it. September was not a good time to be outside without proper clothing… Not like it was any colder than Zurich. 

Angela almost snorted at the rationality. 

Finally getting her cigarette to light, she haphazardly tossed her lighter to the side, leaving the cigarette in her mouth as she thumbed the half-empty pack in her hands. The night air was much more solidifying than the stale recycled base air conditioning, and the smoke was just what she needed. Even if she knew it wasn’t really the smoke. 

She still shook, the odd feeling of some lingering thought tearing claws in her stomach. She wrapped her arms around herself to try and ignore them, make herself smaller, try to fill in the gaps. But no matter what she did, the missing memories still clawed and ripped at her insides… guild seeped through. Tears even still made tracks down her cheeks as she tried to remember, tried to think about what she saw… 

The images were all but lost to her now. 

All she really did remember was it was another dream about her parents. The hospital in ruins… 

She flicked off some ash before long and hoped the cigarette would burn faster and calm her sooner.

Her calm air was disturbed by the door opening. Just when she had finally felt herself loosen, she tensed back up and curled. Please, let it have been Jesse. 

“... Ziegler?” 

Shit. 

Moira had found her way outside, and in the same time found Angela, sitting on the ground and cradling herself. Angela felt more tears come be it they were compelled or not. The last thing she needed was Moira down her back, teasing her for being a child, telling her to grow up… She’d maybe find some alcohol herself just to drown out the mortifying ordeal. 

Before she knew it, Moira had found a spot next to her, still dressed in her day clothes for the lab, sans her coat. Perhaps it wasn’t as late as Angela thought it was. The sounds of another lighter flicking to life caught Angela’s attention and she turned her head just enough to see Moira lighting her own, before stuffing it all back in her pocket. “I had a feeling you were lying about smoking,” Moira said, quite nonchalantly, but it didn’t sound like she was judging her either. “If I were a trauma doctor and dealing with idiots who hurt themselves on the daily I’d smoke a pack a day too.” 

Angela rolled her eyes, turning her attention back to the ground… and everything around her. Anything for a distraction. She didn’t have time for Moira… and even her presence made her want to break further. A slip of a tear went down her cheek again and she wanted to curse at herself… but any words she could have thought of caught in her throat. 

For a minute, everything was silent… Angela was allowed to stew in her mind, try to recall what she had forgotten. Another flick of ash. Another drag. She couldn’t remember…! Damn it. 

“You know.” Moira started speaking without prompting. “I heard somewhere that it was your birthday. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to reconsider that offer for a drink?” 

Angela almost grumbled a no, before thinking about it hard. She did want to forget.. even if it would make her feel awful later. And if she was being honest she was still quite tipsy. She nodded in her reply and snuffed out her filter on the concrete. "Ja, please." Angela responded. 

Moira seemed to be more than willing to snuff her cigarette out as well, despite it only being halfway down. Angela shoved herself up and wiped her face, hoping that her tears weren't visible in the moonlight, or the lights coming off the base. Maybe they were already seen, who would know. Moira seemed to know almost everything about her, despite knowing nothing at all and showing the least bit of interest. Now that Angela had thought about it for a moment, it was odd that Moira knew some of these habits and behaviors of hers… 

She followed Moira down the hallway almost completely stable, still leaning against the wall at times when she thought Moira wasn't looking. How could she be, Angela was behind her. Still… heading outside was one thing while partially drunk, it was another thing entirely to walk inside and have to go up a flight of stairs. It almost made her scowl as she fought with the railing to climb up. She almost thought she heard Moira laugh at her on the side, barely a chuckle… but she didn't pay mind to it. As the doors became more spread out Angela realized they were in a different set of living areas.. perhaps bigger spaces for higher-ups? Angela felt her face flush as she read some of the names of a few colleagues that she knew had seniority. Perhaps her room was coming soon? It was starting to get a little cramped, and the communal showers were pretty… iffy. 

Moira stopped before long, pulling her own ID card to open a door. Curiously, Angela peered inside before she stepped in, holding back a slightly audible gasp from her person. 

It was decorated in various schematics, science posters, and a family crest somewhere on the wall. A bookcase only half full of various textbooks and science reports… a soft couch with a Royal purple blanket draped off the back, and an only kindly disastrous kitchenette area. A few glasses were out, as was a bottle that Angela could tell was still cold. Moira must have been drinking before she came outside for a cigarette. Maybe she really was all screwed around on time… the small light in the microwave barely set her as past 22:00. 

Moira moved from the door, generously removing her shoes before exploring the rest of her living space. Angela cautiously glanced down at her own feet before following Moira to the kitchenette, leaning against the counter of the island as her other moved to pull fresh glasses. "Are you fond of whiskey, Ziegler?" Moira asked curiously as she poured two glasses, nearly to full. 

"Never had it." Angela responded. Moira nodded and pushed a glass towards her. 

While Moira already started drinking without care, Angela picked up her glass and examined it curiously before tossing it back. She downed half the full glass, setting it back on the counter and rubbing her face afterward. "**That tastes like shit.**" Angela mumbled to herself, glancing up to see Moira's rather intrigued face. Her own glass wasn't quite missing the same amount, but surely she wasn't going to leave Angela ahead for long. 

"Never took you for the drinking type." Moira gestured her glass, taking another sip. "Or are you fond of keeping many secrets?" 

Angela shook her head, running her finger along the rim of her glass. "I don't drink. Usually." Angela responded. "But… I feel awful. About something I've got no control over. And I shouldn't worry about it, because it doesn't affect me but… I can't help but feel like it should be. Or, or that something's missing…" she felt herself ramble on, right before she downed the rest of her glass and folded her arms against the counter. 

Generously, Moira filled her glass back up. Odd. 

"If it's something you cannot change or alter, just better focus on the things you can. A faulty memory does a scientist no good in this field." Moira responded. It almost sounded like an asshole response, and Angela wanted to throw her drink at her. But she couldn't, wouldn't, and took a much more reserved sip this time. 

They were quiet for a bit, Angela saying nothing as she nursed her way through a whole other glass, Moira going through three. Was it three? The silence was unnerving, but also slightly encouraging as she felt her drunken state wash over, more intense than before. Either she was really a lightweight, or the alcohol content of this damn whiskey was something else. Moira hardly seemed affected. 

She waved away Moira’s advance to fill her glass again, feeling slightly dizzy as she moved. She earned a cocked up eyebrow as response. “If two drinks already make you weak in the knees, I don't think you’ll be here long.” 

“I… Was drinking earlier.” Angela said quietly, thumbing the rim of her glass. 

Moira nodded, reserving the bottle for herself instead. “That would certainly explain a lot.” Moira responded, capping it and moving to the couch. Angela carefully turned and watched her, feeling her vision swim as she did. She let out a soft groan, but followed in a very slow shuffle. Where her companion sat with some decent composure, she practically fell into the couch. 

She heard Moira stifle a scoff. “How many drinks did you have at your little party for you to be stumbling like that?” She asked, setting her glass on her menial excuse of a coffee table. 

Angela rolled her eyes, keeping them off of Moira’s face. “Probably somewhere around a bottle of wine. I lost count of the glasses.” Angela responded despite her distaste in doing so. She really was never a drinker, but given how much she had now with the whiskey, she had very little of thought to the matter. 

“For a bottle, you handled yourself well. Until now, that is.” Moira said graciously. 

For the moment, Angela ignored her, feeling drowsy but without the capacity to fall asleep. She couldn’t. Not yet. 

As for Moira, she seemed to inch closer, or was that just part of her vision still swimming. “Tell me, Ziegler, how well have you been doing holding yourself back these past few months?” She inquired. 

Angela cocked an eyebrow up. “What do you mean…?” She mumbled, fighting to keep her word straight enough for this… seemingly serious conversation. 

“Don't play the fool.” Moira responded, sipping her glass slightly afterward. “I see how you stare. The way you get around me when I get too close. You harbor something, don't you?” 

She shook her head. “... How nervous you make me?” Angela suggested. “When you get close and I think you’re about to eat me…” The words were mumbled, and she curled up further. Moira was definitely getting closer, her hand hanging over the back of the couch and eerily close to her shoulder. “Like right now.” 

Angela finally did look up as if to question her, just to see a smirk of a smile and a look that she couldn’t describe… “I’d love to if you’d let me.” Moira responded, almost absolutely straight-faced.

Her grip on the glass could have broken it if it weren’t so thick. “_Excuse me?_” Angela was louder than she intended and extremely offended at the ordeal. “You’re a cannibal!?” 

Now that really got Moira to pause, look at her, cock up an eyebrow. It was possibly the most confused Angela had ever seen her. It took a good few seconds of them both staring at one another, eyes meeting. Angela flushed dark, staring into serious (albeit, confused) eyes. “No. I’m not a _cannibal_” Moira responded. “Ziegler, are you that sheltered?” She asked instead. 

She was even more confused than before. “What does… what does that have to do with anything?” Angela asked. “I know I never interacted much with my peers, I was very focused in school. I didn’t have time for socialization!” Suddenly, all Angela could feel was… offended, honestly. 

Moira knocked back the rest of her fourth glass. Fifth? Angela lost count, but she was sure it might've been the fourth. “Do you even fancy women?” she decided to ask afterward, a frown deeply seated on her face. 

“Fancy them…?” Angela looked at her eyes ever still, thoughts going in and out of her mind. The words registered just a bit too late, and her face flushed deeper than before. “... As in…?” She was so focused on that now, she had completely forgotten her previous concern of cannibalism. “I… I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it.”

“Never?” It was a question, but Moira’s tone was so flat, Angela barely processed it as one. “What of men? Or are you one of those non sexual types.” She riddled off as if it was supposed to help Angela clear it up any better. 

“That sort of thing never came up.” Angela responded quietly. 

A small growl of frustration came from her companion to the side. “Never. No talk with your parents about being intimate? No threat to a theoretical boyfriend?” 

Angela thumbed her glass. Now she was the one focused, face stilled in a frown. There were a million responses she had to that. Mean ones, nice ones, Angela didn’t know which one Moira had deserved. Being drunk certainly didn’t help the decision. She suddenly looked up with a scowl. “My parents died when I was young, why do you think I’m drinking?” 

There. That look was one of stone. That should shut her up for now. Angela didn’t bother to look much longer as she stood up, moving back to the island counter and pouring herself another glass without Moira's assistance. She wasn't exactly careful with her sipping this time either, preferring to drown herself in it this time instead. Why was she still even here? She felt wetness touch her cheeks again and she made some noise of distress as she wiped them away, almost frustrated. Why was anything regarding Moira like pulling teeth? Moreover, why was she still indulging herself on her birthday when it all it brought her thus far was misery!?

She put her empty glass on the counter with a loud thud, and she was bordering on just breaking out in open sobs in Moira’s living space. A chill hand rested itself on her shoulder and she nearly squeaked. “You’re drunk, Doctor Ziegler.” Moira made the very obvious observation. “I’ll take you back to your room.” 

Another soft scowl. She didn’t even bother apologizing for the conversation they had before. Not that Angela wanted to hear it. No, she was more curious of their previous topic. “Nien.” Angela swung around, facing Moira now. She looked mildly surprised at the reaction. “What were you insinuating earlier, when you said you’d eat me? Is that some sort of slang where you come from? Why would my parents need to teach me about it?” 

Moira sighed. “Really, this is a conversation for when you’re sober. I shouldn’t have tried to impose-”

“Impose _what_ Doctor O’Deorain!?” Angela’s voice raised slightly, interrupting her. It was even in her accent, just how frustrated she sounded. 

Neither one of them said nothing after that. Angela quickly surmised that she was pinned between Moira and the counter, and Moira was staring her down. It felt like she was examining every little bit of her, and while normally, Angela would sweat under this kind of scrutinizing attention, she demanded an answer. Why was Moira being so damn cryptic? What was she imposing? And most of all- was she getting closer? 

Moira’s hand grabbed the back of her head, slid from somewhere unknown. Not only was her head shoved forward, Moira’s face came closer. Her eyes grew wide as Moira had forced them to touch.

A kiss…

Angela could taste the whiskey on Moira’s lips. 

For a few, completely stunned seconds, Angela had indulged Moira’s advance. Just those few, seemingly perfect seconds. 

Somewhere, Angela found it in herself to shove Moira away, leaning heavily against the counter to support herself. Her counterpart stumbled a bit away, slowly regaining her own composure to stand straight and tall, looking down on Angela with that scouring glare. Despite Angela waiting for the scolding to come, nothing came. She had her own face scrunched in what she could only presume was an angry look, before grabbing Moira’s bottle and making her way out of the room. She stumbled against the frame, grumbled something to herself in Swiss, and said nothing else to Moira as she made her way back to her own room. Thankfully, Moira had nothing to say to her either, letting her leave without further incident. 

It took Angela a lengthy walk, heavily supported by the wall, but when she made it back to her room, she fell right back onto her bed, clinging to the bottle of nearly empty whiskey as if it had any more comfort for her. 

She half choked a sob as she threw the bottle somewhere else in the room, thankful that somehow it didn’t break. At least she didn’t hear it break. 

Then, she did just as she felt like she wanted to do, sinking right back into bed, and letting the swim of the alcohol get the better of her, putting her back to sleep. Hopefully for good this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off I'd like to give credit to a good friend of mine for the 'Child Angela' concept, that is very important, just by the way. It belongs to my friend Lesbxdyke on tumblr. They're a wonderful bean, and any time this 'Child Angela" cops up, expect me to mention them. 
> 
> Also, sorry if this isn't exactly the ending you wanted. Or, if it's not quite accurate. I've been drunk a total of twice. And my thoughts were everywhere. I'd assume Angela's would be too. Among other things. 
> 
> Thank you guys for everything and Comments and Suggestions are always welcome :V


	21. Forgetfulness and Remembrance.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela isn't quite hungover, but she has a damn hard time remembering exactly what she happened to do the night before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya! I really gotta say thank you guys to those fucking hilarious comments from the previous chapter. It made my day! And made me want to get THIS chapter out a lot faster. That, and we've still got a few days left for NaNoWriMo, and I've got to make the goal somehow! Hopefully, you guys enjoy this, cause i fully intend on making this mess messier. Have fun!

A loud knock on her door woke Angela up that next morning, and the sound made her head pound. “**No… It’s too early…**” Angela mumbled into her pillow, pulling another over her ears and head to hopefully reduce the noise she heard. She was tired, and her head was barely aching as if she had a mild headache from terrible decisions. She shouldn't have drunk so much. 

"Angela?" The voice on the other side of the door belonged to Ana. 

Angela scrambled up quickly from her bed upon hearing that voice, barely covering her arms up with a blanket before answering the door. There Ana was, just a little guilty looking, but otherwise… normal. "There you are. Good morning.”

"Good morning, Captain." Angela was more formal than need be, given she was completely in pajamas and her hair a mess. "Am I late? I'm sorry, I-"

"No, no," Ana chuckled, shaking her head and waving Angela's concern off. "You're not late. It's actually six-thirty. I came by to let you know Commander Morrison wants us together for a mission briefing at fourteen hundred." She explained. 

The sudden panic in her chest calmed somewhat. "Myself included, then?" Angela cocked an eyebrow up. 

Ana grinned something devilish. "Well of course. Didn't you open your gifts?" She asked. 

Angela had a quizzical look on her face for a moment, staring at the ground before turning back to her desk. Ana seemed to catch a glimpse too of torn paper wrappings and dismantled boxes. And… What was shining on the floor by her desk?

"Ah, I see even Doctor O'Deorain gave you a party favor as well," Ana noted, having seen the same shining object. "Do you mind?" 

"N-Not at all." Angela stepped to the side, embarrassment flooding her entire being. She didn't remember seeing Moira last night. Did she? If so, when? She certainly wasn't at the party, she remembered that much for sure. 

Ana had made her way into the room, picking up the bottle from the floor and examining it with a bit of a look. "Looks like she went easy for you. How considerate." Angela flushed a little at the notion. She wasn't exactly a lightweight, but she was also drunk earlier in the day. Evidently, the look on her face spoke volumes to Ana, who cocked an eyebrow at her after a moment. "Did you drink most of this by yourself, Angela?"

"N..No! I couldn't do such a thing." Angela immediately defended. But… it did look like she might've, and she certainly felt like it too. Did she ..? 

They were quiet for a moment before Ana placed the bottle on her desk. "I'll make sure there's a spare bottle of water for you at the briefing." She almost winked, and bid Angela farewell with a wave before leaving her complete in her room and the wake of what she did the night before. She couldn't remember hardly anything at all. How did she wind up in Moira's company…? Her door shut with an audible thunk which made her want to squeak, and she rubbed at her face promptly afterward. It was already gearing up to be far too long of a day and she wanted nothing to do with it. She grabbed at her shower kit and made her way to bathe… Even if she did see other people this morning. 

\--- ---

By some will of good fortune, there wasn't a soul in the showers, which did wonders for her trying to soothe the aches from the night before. Her headache went away with the hot water and she felt better after brushing her teeth, god forbid her breath still smelled of alcohol. And after her feet met her comfortable roaming clogs, she almost felt as if she hadn't even touched a bottle or glass in the first place. She was so caught up in just feeling better that she had almost forgotten that she was forgetting key pieces of her birthday night. 

She walked into the lab with a little less than a hum to herself, setting up and getting to her desk. Her nanites glow and her laptop making noises of starting back up were practically music to her ears. And best of all, Moira hadn't been there quite yet. Which was perfect, so she could try and piece together what happened to her. 

Angela vaguely remembered her nightmare, which was a little more disturbing than the rest of the ordeal. It was telling her she was forgetting something, or rather someone. It had distressed her enough to want to go outside for a cigarette. Okay, she remembered that too. 

Opening up her emails, Angela started to scan them for anything important she might've missed while "celebrating" her birthday. An update on an article she had been looking forward to was sent to her, and she had lost herself in the contents. Just long enough for the doors to open, and her complexion paled. 

Her time ran out as Moira stepped through the door, looking normal for the most part, tucking her ID back where it belonged. She did seem to pause, however, looking over in Angela’s direction as her eyebrows quirked up. “Ziegler, you’re up.” 

“Yes.” Angela straightened up in her seat, fully intending on deflecting any doubtful behavior. “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

Moira walked over without answering the question, reaching into her lab coat pocket and pulling out a water bottle. She placed it on Angela’s desk and returned to her natural formal stature, hands behind her back and all. “You had quite a bit to drink. As did I. And I apologize for my inappropriate behavior.” 

Now it was Angela’s turn to be confused, slowly taking the water bottle as a favor of peace. “... I’d say you have nothing to apologize for but I don’t even know what it is you’re talking about.” Angela responded, taking a sip of her gift. 

She blinked, her own back straightening further if that was possible. “You don’t? Not at all?” Moira inquired. 

Angela shook her head. “I remember going outside… for air.” Angela caught herself before she told on it. “After a bad dream. That was all.” 

“You went outside to smoke a cigarette.” Moira was slightly more deadpan this time. “I found you and invited you in for a drink. A few, actually.” She lightly explained, turning on her heel and making her way to her own desk instead. 

Angela hummed it off, looking back to her computer. She only hardly scanned the next email before glancing back up. “Is that why I have your bottle of whiskey in my room?” She mused, a little louder than she meant to. 

She could hear Moira scoff from the other side of the room, her nose already in some report. “You practically stole it on your way out in frustration.” 

Angela left it at silence, reading through her emails still as Moira’s words made her think a little harder on her night time activity. After she mentioned it, Angela did vaguely remember meeting Moira outside, the small exchange they shared. Her vague walk of shame to Moira’s room leaning against the walls… She propped her head up by her elbow and hand as she stared into her tank of Nanites, getting lost in her train of thought and pulling the pieces together. 

The bottle was vaguely familiar after all. Moira poured them both a few glasses each. She couldn’t remember exactly how much. She couldn’t remember what they talked about, either. Infact, the whole time she spent in Moira’s room was a blur to her, except the whiskey, her couch, those intricate decorations, and…! 

The kiss! 

Angela took a sip of water to prevent herself from saying or noising something ridiculous. Or screaming in embarrassed shock. 

They kissed! Rather, Moira had kissed her. How couldn’t she have remembered _that_ earlier!? One would think they’d remember their own first fucking _kiss_. 

She put her head in both of her hands and groaned. Her first kiss and she was drunk off of her ass, just wonderful. It wasn’t like she was trying to save it for something special, but hell if she wasn’t… confused? Confused was definitely _a_ word for it all. 

From the other side of the room, Moira started chuckling. Angela looked up with the full intention to glare at her until she was quiet, but her chuckles only persisted. “You know, I don’t think I’ve seen surprise and regret settle so quickly on someone.”

Angela grimaced. “Your apology most certainly is _not_ accepted.” She said bitterly, standing up quite suddenly. She absolutely could not think, not with _that woman_ so close in her headspace. The lab was never a good place to distract herself from the likes of Moira.

Moira cocked an eyebrow up at her. “Can’t stand to be around me now?” She sounded vaguely disturbed.

“No!” Angela snapped, saying nothing more as she shut her laptop and found its case. “I’m going to the engineer’s shop.” She said quite solidly, slinging the strap over her shoulder. 

Despite her displeasure, she took her bottle of water with her. 

\--- --- ---

She did have intentions to go and see Torbjorn, she had to thank him after all for Ingrid’s kind gift. But first, she took a detour to the Mess Hall, knowing that was exactly where Reinhardt would be at the moment. If she could vent her frustrations to anyone in any proper words she wanted to use, it would be him. 

Even then, would it really be? Reinhardt was a close friend, of course. But was he really close enough to her that he’d be an appropriate choice for her… confusion? That was starting to be a less and less appropriate word for her state. Could she really even call it confusion? 

Her hands fidgeted. No, Reinhardt was not the person she needed to see right now. He would probably offer some genuine advice as someone twenty some odd years her senior. Try to help her figure out her conflictions, or even try to assure her that it was a phase. Or at the very least, inappropriate despite his relationship with Ana. Far too confusing. Angela didn’t need any more complexity to her thoughts. 

08:30 wasn’t exactly the time that Jesse would be outside, but she knew where he would be, and that would be the shooting range. He mentioned it several times and changed her course to find him. 

The trek to the shooting range wasn’t all that far from her current position, if anything it was shorter, and the moment she stepped through the doors, Jesse’s six-shooter could be heard loud and clear. Very loud. Damn near-deafening if she was going to be honest. Jesse was the only one there, and once he emptied the rounds and dumped the shells, he turned to see Angela approaching him. “Hey there, Doc.” He tipped his hat, giving her a satisfactory wink. “What brings you into my neck of the woods?” 

Angela sat herself down on a bench not too far from him, leaning against the wall and holding off a groan. “Jesse, can I vent to you for just a moment, please?” 

“Uh-oh.” He didn’t hold back from sounding a little overdramatic. “What did Doc-Ock do to ya now?” She figured out over time that it was his way of differentiating between the two of them when it was just her, seeing as Moira was also referred to as Doc. 

She let out another stubborn sigh before balling up her hands in her coat pockets. “**She’s a vicious pig with alcohol and she’s disgusting and vile and narcissistic! She kissed me while we were drunk! Why would she do such a thing!?**” Angela went on in Swiss. She didn’t want an answer or any kind of support. Not exactly, anyway. She just wanted to talk. To be heard. That was it. “**She was so smug after I remembered that we kissed. That she kissed me. That was far out of line! I’ve never kissed anyone! And she knew that, I told her that! Why would she have done that to me!? I don’t even know her enough to do anything like that with her or to her! A-And now that it’s happened and I know it’s happened, I don't know what to think or what to do about it! First, she plagues my studies, makes me feel inadequate, now she’s gone and made me feel as if I’m a child and a fool for being inexperienced where she seems to excel!**” She finally took a deeper breath, looking at Jesse now instead of the floor she had been staring at. 

He was spaced out, blushing even, looking at her with a bit of a dumbfounded look on his face. When it seemed that he realized she was looking at him, he blinked and recoiled slightly. “... Sorry Doc, I’ve got no idea about anything that you just said. I don't, uh, speak German.” He offered up his apology. 

Angela shook her head, sipping at her water after. “No, I didn’t expect you to understand, Jesse.” She responded calmly, a stark contrast to her voice moments prior. “I just. Why would O’Deorain kiss me while we were drunk? I don’t understand why she had to do that. I don't even remember the conversation we had, but she kissed me and… And I can’t get my mind off of it…!” 

A few moments passed before Jesse broke up in laughter, to the point where he could barely breathe. 

She wasn’t impressed. “Jesse.” She said flatly. 

“I’m sorry!” Jesse wheezed on, his laughs were still clear. “That’s what you’re all bent outta shape about? The other doc kissing you?” 

Angela threw her water bottle at him as he seemed to be making fun of her, hitting his thigh with an audible crinkle and thud as it hit the ground. “Wouldn’t you be ‘bent out of shape’ if someone you barely knew kissed you too?” Angela asked him, almost mocking his phrasing with air quotes. 

He finally got his act together, shaking his head and clearing up his laughter. “That’s a thing that can happen when you get drunk, Doc. You could end up kissing strangers. I’ve kissed a few people drunk off my ass before. I’ve even wound up in a few beds.” Jesse admitted casually as if it were just another fact. 

Angela’s face flushed considerably at the idea. Now imagining Jesse in bed with some poor girl wasn’t hard to imagine. But the same situation translated over to her predicament was even worse. She couldn’t even picture it and felt her face already get hotter. What was wrong with her? She tried to push it down as she cleared her throat. “I’d never end up in someone’s bed.” She responded quite bluntly, although her voice was quiet. 

“Not even Doc-Ock’s bed?” Jesse grinned brightly. 

She glared daggers at him. “Never!” She bit, her face bright red and she knew it. 

All Jesse did was laugh at her again, unable to utter a response. Angela gave up, hiding her head in her hands and groaning. “**I’ve never dated anyone, I’ve never kissed, never had sex. I don’t know what I’d like or what I’d expect. I don't even know who I’d expect! But Moira O’Deorain is the very last person on this planet I’d want for that purpose.**” She stated specifically in Swiss, just to avoid Jesse bullying her for it. That is if he could even hear her words over his loud laughter. 

Eventually, he died down again and sat next to Angela. She kept her eyes off of him, but he brought her in for a side hug. “Listen, Angela.” It was rare for him to ever use her actual name. “Dunno what your deal or experience or preference is, but if your problem is that she’s a woman, and you’re worried about getting slack for it, I can point out all the gay people around here just for you to not feel subconscious about it.” he offered. He sounded perfectly genuine too, but it was all she could do to not yell out in protest

“I’m not gay, Jesse!” Angela exclaimed, shoving his arm off of her and scooting away. “I’m not concerned about rumors around the base. Doctor O’Deorain is. Shes…” Angela gripped at her lab coat, unable to find words in English for exactly what she wanted to call her. “She is absolutely never a person I’d be attracted to. If her scientific projects and topics are anything to go off of for her personality…” Finally, something that worked. 

Jesse shrugged, but he still smiled that sweet sort of smile. It was also one of those smiles that told Angela he was up to absolutely nothing good. “Give it time. You liked it didn’t you?” 

Angela stuck her tongue out briefly, shaking her head. Although she was shaking her head, she couldn’t make the words come out. But she was absolutely sure and certain that she _did not_ like that kiss. She was drunk, why would she like it? It should be considered rude to kiss, or otherwise be intimate with someone while they’re drunk. Absolutely. She wouldn’t be convinced otherwise. 

She huffed slightly as Jesse moved to reload his gun, returning to his previous activity of shooting down the range and practically making her ears bleed. But at least the rings pulled her out of her thoughts enough to not want to drown herself with the bottle across the floor. 

That reminded her, she had a bottle of whiskey to pour into the nearest sink once she was done sulking about around Jesse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To quote a particularly humorous interaction from my Moicy server, I've spilled the mop water and done made a mess of everything. Oops. 
> 
> Ah, to be young, never been in a relationship, and sexually frustrated and confused at the same time. Poor thing @ Angela. 
> 
> Anyhow, comments and suggestions are always welcome. Really, they make my day, even if y'all just send me a key smash <3


	22. Sneaky Little Witch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela is informed about a Halloween party, but Moira seemed to be putting a wrench even in that plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. I don't have very many words so just... Enjoy Frustrated Angela!

Despite the distaste with their drunken kiss, Angela couldn’t stay away from the lab for too long. She managed to avoid it without meeting Moira’s gaze for about a week before it was back to work on her Nanites and the program that would help run with her set of wings that Torbjörn was still very hard at work on. She saw the polished frame of the propulsion mechanics not too long ago, and she couldn’t wait to see it finished. Furthermore, she couldn’t wait to test it out. He promised it wouldn’t be too much longer. 

Today, she was watching as he worked on Reinhardt’s armor again, damaged from their previous mission. Angela had politely opted out of it, seeing as she was too deep programming. Thankfully, Ana gave her the pass to her work. 

It wasn’t that intense anyhow if Reinhardt’s lack of an epic tale on it was anything to go by. The damage was just him protecting his team, halfway expected by this point. Just a few too many dings for it to be considered safe for him to go on his next mission as it was. She swung her legs as she sat in a chair, watching Torbjörn work. Times like this made her feel at peace, and she could safely ignore the nagging in the back of her mind of how Moira had been plaguing her. Not to mention that damn kiss. She still hadn’t let it slip her. Except, again, in moments like these. 

“Have you done anything for Halloween lately, Angela?” Torbjörn decided to ask somewhere along the lines of their hushed conversation, pulling his hammer to mend some kink in the armor. 

“Halloween?” Angela questioned right back, tilting her head to the side. “... Not since I was a little girl. That is unless you could count handing candy pieces out to the children in the hospital I worked at…” She mused. 

Torbjörn seemed to get a smile on his face. “We have a Halloween party, for those who enjoy taking part in it. We dress up and tell stories.” He explained as if it were just some of the most casual things. 

That certainly seemed like something she’d take part in. Angela perked up at the very thought of it, smiling fondly. “I’d love to come. It sounds like a nice way to get to know more soldiers better.” As if Angela really wanted to get to know any of the soldiers better, but if she was going to be known as the second Medic for the Strike Team, she really needed to do herself better and get out there more. The better side she was on, the more they would cover for her in the future in larger battles. Or at least, that was the hope. 

All he did was chuckle a little in response to her hopeful outlook. “There will be drinks too. Heard you had quite a lot at your birthday party Ana threw you.” He smiled a little wider. 

Angela flushed some, sitting up. “I… Well. She offered them as part of the party, didn’t she?” Angela’s voice was a little small. Hopefully no one, besides Ana, had heard of just how drunk she had gotten afterward… It was bad enough Jesse was pulling kissy faces at her any time he saw Moira and herself in the same room with one another. She didn’t need anyone thinking she wound up… sharing a bed with her. The thought of it alone made her want to groan in frustration and made her face flush deeply. So lost in thought, she was only brought by Torbjörn hammering loudly at Reinhardt’s armor, having said something beforehand. She just hoped it wasn’t important. 

A few pounds of the hammer, some burning in his furnace, before Torbjörn turned his attention to her again, getting back to a proper topic. “What would you dress up for if you did go?” He asked out of curiosity. It almost sounded a little too caring. Angela came to expect that from now. She knew she reminded him of his own daughter. 

“I dressed as a witch last year.” Angela nodded. “But I’m afraid I’ve left the costume in Zürich,” Angela responded, leaning back just slightly. It was a shame, really. She was fond of the costume she bought, sparkly and black with a big floppy hat. At the very same time, it was terribly old. It wouldn’t have survived the trip even if she wanted to bring it. 

Torbjörn just grinned. “There’s a fabric store in town, and I know a few shops that would have a good costume selection.” He said. 

It definitely gave her something to think about. And besides, Halloween was one of those holidays that didn’t give her erie memories or haunting thoughts. And, strangely enough, she had always felt like spirits lingered on a day where they were practically mocked. Which was good for her, in some way. Halloween was just a good time of year for her. 

She stood up right then, stretching out her back and looking at the stand that held the frame of her wings. Bare metal, unpolished, with the propulsion system geared for it. It made her smile off to the side, knowing that it wouldn’t be too much longer now. Soon she could test her science, her schematics, brought to life with Torbjörn’s craftsmanship. But for the moment, she had a different sort of joy flooding through her as she thought about it. It was only half-way through October, she had enough time to pull together a costume… in between medical research and helping wounded soldiers through one way or another. Who needed a full six hours of sleep anyhow? Surely she didn’t. 

Angela left his shop shortly after, bidding Torbjörn a farewell before departing back to the Medical Bay. She had to be there for a small demonstration by a colleague before she could move on with the rest of her day… or rather, her trip to the fabric store. Provided she had enough money to actually do what she really wanted to. If she was going to go to a Halloween party, she had to have a decent costume. 

\--- --- ---

She worked all through those two weeks to make her costume just right. As much free time as she could possibly possess was poured into the embroidery, making the material flexible and breathable, and if she could use it as an excuse to avoid Moira just that much further, she would. She still hadn’t quite been able to look at Moira’s face since her outburst over the kiss, and she hated it just so. They were finally getting somewhere professionally and now look at the mess they had gotten themselves into. But there was absolutely one thing Angela couldn’t avoid, and that was help with her nanite injections. 

She hadn’t stopped programming them, upgrading their reaction time and their speed. IT needed to be nearly instant on the field, and considering how their missions were growing more and more dangerous, Angela didn’t have a moment to waste in her studies. Then again, that also meant another dose for herself, and Moira was more than happy to help set up the IV kit. 

Angela could have always told her no and done it herself, but after the fiasco in her bedroom, her hands were shaky for her own needles… So, Moira had assisted her thus far. 

At the moment, she was hesitating to ask her for her hand. Everything was already in the lab, she had a bin somewhere to store it away from prying eyes. A fresh vial sat in her hand, ready for the procedure. She apparently spent a little bit too long staring at the vial in her hands, as Moira’s voice pulled her from the focus and made her jump. “Doctor Ziegler, are you in need of assistance?” 

Angela wanted to scowl and hide and tell her no, and make her stay away from her. But she couldn’t, no matter how hard she wanted to. Not when they had to share the same laboratory for who knew how much longer. The sooner she could escape from that lab the sooner she could stop being so… mind clouded all the time. She hated the distractions Moira's very presence brought, if anything she wished she could fade away any time they locked eyes or lingered too long. Begrudgingly, she sighed and let her eyes fall to the kit at her desk. “... Yes.” Angela responded as formally as she could. 

She didn’t need to think too hard to imagine the smirk that would creep up Moira’s face. Even then, when she looked up, Moira’s face was practically expressionless. As much as it could be, anyhow. 

She crouched down to Angela’s side, pulling up the tourniquet as she rolled up her own sleeve. Angela felt herself blush deeply, unable to even look at herself. Those golden scars along her arms had faded, only slightly, but if she paid attention she’d catch sight of them, and any reminder of that night nearly made her sick. Never again. 

Moira tied the tourniquet on her arm, letting Angela flex as needed to get the veins to show and all the details included. Angela saw through the veil of her hair, just how Moira moved around, getting the needle, sanitizing her skin, saying nothing. At least she was a professional. For a moment. 

A thin, smooth thumb went down her arm, tracing the scar that was left. Angela shut her eyes and bit her lip to refrain from saying anything, snapping at her. God, why was her face burning? She hated it. 

“You healed well,” Moira commented, though her tone was still relatively calm. “Do they hurt? Your scars, I mean.” 

Angela shook her head. “Nein. No, No. They don't.” She responded, damn near fumbling over her words. She just wanted to get this over with… damn Moira for being a curious scientist. The evidence was there, her arms were fine. No need to linger about any longer. 

She let out a soft hum, her thumb finally leaving Angela’s arm to grab the needle. A moment or two later, it pricked her skin and her veins, making her suck in a deep breath at the pinch. The pain eased down after a moment or two and Moira did well to set everything else up as Angela described to her before, if only because she was practically paralyzed by fear of moving or doing it herself at the moment. Especially because Moira just had to mention them. The scars. 

Keeping her eyes shut through the rest of the task, she finally looked up once she felt the familiar rush behind her ears. Moira pushed a syringe of her Nanites into the IV bag, letting them fill and start to drain like that. Angela carefully watched her hands, every move she made. Almost as if she was worried she'd sabotage this round. But she didn't. She left it be and moved back to her side of the lab with no other words. 

After a short moment, Angela let out a breath she didn't even know she had held in. Her IV was safely in, the nanites filling her, and she was satisfied for the moment. Left to peace, she decided to pass the time, reading an article on her computer to distract herself from the solid object in her arm. Not to mention the odd closeness and the feeling of slender fingers over her skin. 

Angela bit the inside of her lip, unable to run away from the room. She hated this off, sick feeling in the pit of her stomach that made her feel as if she had butterflies. Why did she get this way? It wasn't like this before that stupid kiss, was it? Angela wanted to groan and hide her face, but she couldn't even do that much. Not without tugging at her IV uncomfortably or making it painfully obvious she was moving too much. Knowing Moira, she'd make a chide comment on her childish nature. Or something else mildly problematic. So she sat there, suffering with her face a bright shade of pink, unable to do anything for her defense on the matter. 

\--- --- ---

Angela was told that the Halloween party would be in the mess hall, the tables moved so everyone would have space to socialize. There were a few who would sit out, such as Ana, just in case there was an emergency. Same for medical personal. Angela, thankfully, wasn't forced to stay in the Medical Bay and wait for any emergencies to come through. Which was good, because she'd hate to have spent so much time working on her costume just to end up not wearing it in the first place. 

It was a simple deep purple costume with hues of yellow and pink in the softer parts of the design. High stockings and long gloves, fit to cover the scars along her arms and the laser scar from her first mission with the Strike Team. It glittered in some places and fit her damn near perfectly, if not just a tad on the tight side but in the right way where she could still move as she pleased. Fitted with neat black buckle boots, she felt like she could have taken the world on if need be. Looking in her body mirror, all Angela could do was smile. No signs of testing, no scars, just simple, Doctor Ziegler in a cute, hand-made witch costume. There would be coworkers and drinks, all of it sounded perfect. 

Grabbing her ID and her floppy hat, Angela made her way out of her room to where she knew the little ‘party’ would be. There was even a small jump to her step. The first moderately normal thing to happen to her that didn’t feel like a bout of dread, and it was a Halloween party! It was one of her favorite times of the year, anyhow… 

The doors opened with an easy shove, and others were already in full swing enjoying themselves. She saw Reinhardt, dressed to the nines in the appearance of a king, and Torbjörn by his side dressed as a Viking. Even his arm was an entirely different looking prosthetic to go along with the costume. They were off around one end of the snack and punch table, chatting away while other soldiers, doctors, and scientists moved around the room. It was a buzz of social activity and it almost felt normal. Angela had to refrain from squealing out her excitement. 

She made a straight line for the punch bowl, hoping to get some kind of settlement that she couldn't calm with her cigarettes before she got too social. A few people stopped to look at her on her way. She knew it was all for her costume, but something tiny gnawed at her that it wasn’t. 

Once to the desired goal of the drinks, Angela graciously made one and took a careful sip, almost completely at peace. 

“You know, the punch _is_ spiked, Doctor Ziegler.” 

Angela damn near spit out her drink. 

She spun around just to meet the gaze of who _appeared_ to be a total stranger, but the voice was so hauntingly familiar. One look at mismatched red and blue eyes answered her dread for her. 

Red hair was sprayed black, facepaint covered most of Moira’s face and most intriguing of all was the interesting costume. The intricate black and navy blue design, and the V-Neck dip, Angela had never thought she’d show so much skin, and she somehow felt that much less revealing, despite the breast window she had made into her own costume. She looked something like a warlock or a wizard… just minus the hat. Meeting Moira’s gaze back up, one of her eyebrows was perked up, seen despite the paint. Angela sipped her drink briefly. 

“... Yes. I was aware.” Angela responded calmly, trying not to show just how hard she was grabbing at her glass. “Torbjörn told me about it.” 

Moira looked her up and down, and if she was impressed or disturbed, the facepaint in low lights made it hard to discern. “Of course, that family dwarf loves the holiday.” She seemed to shrug it off, before reaching past Angela to retrieve her own glass. 

She kept to her own, inching away as Moira retrieved her own drink. She almost wanted to slink away, slight dread filling her after knowing she was here. That was the last thing she needed, a reminder of what happened the last time she was drunk. And Moira of all people would no doubt terrorize her over it. The next thing Angela knew, her drink was empty, and she quietly cursed under her breath in Swiss. 

Turning to get more, she didn’t realize Moira was still quite right there. Hadn’t enough time passed that she should have been somewhere else? Her face went right into her chest, and upon recoiling, Angela saw a certain kind of lip curve on Moira’s face. 

“Now, You haven’t had that much to drink already, have you, Ziegler?” That was it, there was the teasing tone that reminded her so much of why Moira was the most maddening, frustrating person on base. That exact tone of voice and she had to try not to snap back a response. 

“No,” Angela responded. “I’ve just got here.” she filled her glass again, turning to find her way far, far away from Moira after. She didn’t need this. 

Despite her attempts, she could still hear Moira’s dark chuckle amidst the noise of the room. “Don’t let me find out outside half drunk again. I don't think I’ll be so good at keeping my hands to myself this time.” Moira said to her, ending in that soft chuckle that had Angela damn near growling, and her face a bright red. 

The only sort of respect she held for Moira at this point was how good she was at making costumes… but why was she blushing? She really didn’t drink enough alcohol for this fuckery yet! As she made her way over to Reinhardt and Torbjörn, it was all she could to not to throw her drink out instead of drinking it. It took equal effort to not just knock it back as well, because she really did want to avoid last time...

Damn Moira O’Deorain!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point, Moira is more teasing for her own personal amusement than anything else, she's not really trying to chase after Angela. Does she care that it could be potential harassment write up? Nope. I do hope you guys enjoyed, I really wanted to write a little Halloween segment even though Halloween is weeks passed. 
> 
> Thank you guys for reading and comments and suggestions are always welcome! <3


	23. Nightmare Dressed Like A Daydream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela has a particular dream, and it throws her into a more confusing loop than ever before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's not a lot of substance to this chapter, sorry. But hopefully you guys don't mind a little shorter insight? Regardless... I wanted to space this chapter out some before I continue on with my other plans for this story. Have fun!

_She was warm. Too warm. Angela knew that for a fact. Sitting in her lab, it felt like someone turned the heating on far too high. Her face was flushed and there was an ache in the pit of her abdomen that she couldn’t place. Her memory was all foggy, and it was incredibly hard to focus. She was just so damn hot! _

_ The only thing that seemed to save her was the cool metal of her desk or her laptop, but the Nanite tank couldn’t save her. The only other thing, if not for the heating, that felt like warmth beating on her, was the piercing eyes of Moira O’Deorain from across the room. Angela didn’t have to look up to know those thin, serious eyes were on her. She hated every moment she could feel them on her. Perhaps that was why she was so hot. _

_ Without much warning, but not out of the ordinary, Moira stood from her seat, her lips moving but no words coming out. It made Angela tilt her head, a vague attempt for them to be heard. By the time she could hear anything resembling her voice, Moira was already upon her, invading her personal space and leaning some of her weight on Angela’s desk._

_ “...that look in your eyes, Ziegler…?” Moira’s voice was almost static-like, but she could hear it. “Is there something on your mind?” _

_ “No.” Angela tried to shut it down, looking at her computer. But to her odd confusion, there was nothing on her screen but her background. _

_ Moira’s slim hand moved to shut the lid of Angela’s laptop… her other free hand moving to grab Angela by the chin. Her breath hitched in her throat as her attention was caught, her body that much hotter under the touch. _

_ “Now Angel, don't be like that,” Moira said, leaning in so close that it was almost impossible for Angela to look anywhere else but her eyes. “Don’t sit here and pretend like nothing is present…” Why was her voice such a low drawl…? Angela shivered at the tone. _

_ She reached, or she tried to, a vague attempt to grab Moira’s wrist, to try and get her to let go, but all she could produce was a loose grip, almost like she was eager to keep her there. Angela felt the heat across her cheeks blossom as Moira only grew closer. “Why do you do this to me…” Angela mumbled, Moira’s lips mere inches from her own. _

_ Her chuckle was just as deep and sultry as the rest of her voice, leaning past her face to put her lips by her ear. “Because Angel.” Her hips lifted, only slightly at that low, whisper-like tone. “I love seeing the way you break apart from desires you didn’t even know you had…” _

_ Moira pulled back, just to crush her lips to Angela’s own, that hand once on her laptop now on Angela’s abdomen, she could feel it. She shut her eyes into the kiss, unable to do anything but focus on the feeling of hands on her body, lips on her own, and just the unrelenting energy that was Moira O’Deorain’s very presence. She let out a faint gasp with her kiss as one of those hands found the hem of her dark pencil skirt. Why was she wearing that damn thing today…? _

_ Nails dug into the flesh of her thigh and she moaned into the kiss, more than she wanted to. The feeling against her was electric, her body reacting with each reaction that was put into it. Those bastardly nails found their way higher and higher, vaguely tracing the outline of her panties for a slight moment. It damn near made Angela gasp and pull herself away, the urge to toss her head back strongly there. _

_ Eventually, Moira pulled away and cupped her face with one hand, enabling Angela to open her eyes with a half-lidded gaze and stared at the woman who terrorized her mind body and soul as of late. That damn face had the most satisfactory grin to it, it made Angela damn near sick. _

_ “I hate to end this so soon, Angel. But you’ll be late for your actual work this way.” _

_ “What?”_

\--- --- --- 

Angela’s eyes opened quite abruptly with the sound of her alarm, and finally, the heat she had been experiencing all night had cooled. 

Well, with the exception of one place, but that was quickly forgotten in her attempt to wake. 

She sat up just as quickly as she opened her eyes and looked around herself. For starters, she was in her room, which meant whatever exchange she just thought she had, was definitely not reality. It was so damn realistic too… Secondly, she was in her sweatshirt and sweatpants, meaning she _definitely_ wasn’t wearing a damn pencil skirt. Did she even own one that short? God, she truly hoped not. 

Angela groaned and threw the blankets off of herself, slapping the alarm clock with a decent amount of force to vent her frustrations and silence it. Moira’s presence in her dreams was the absolute last thing she needed. She didn’t even like women! Why was she dreaming like this? 

She shifted through her closet, opting for one of the turtlenecks she had been gifted from her birthday to wear today. The more modest she could appear the better she’d feel. She absolutely did _not_ want Moira’s hands over her. Even if in the workplace they’d never allow it to happen, Angela still wanted the thought and possibility erased from her mind. She just wanted to forget about it all. Not too long after, she found a preferred pair of worn jeans to wear right with it, high waisted and perfect. That would send the non-existent message to the absolutely wrong Moira. 

Angela didn’t care. She just wanted to feel secure. That was it. 

As she was changing her clothes for the day ahead, she felt her face erupt in a rush of heat, feeling how discomforting her panties happened to be as she moved around. She wound up having to change them, despite having showered the night before. 

No. There was no way she was attracted. Dreams meant absolutely nothing. They were just dreams. 

… Right? 

After pulling herself a new pair of underwear, she pulled her phone over to quickly play some music, something to distract her from her current situation, to get dressed in peace. Somehow, by some god-given whim, it got her through getting her clothes on, her shoes tied up, and even to her lab coat until she double-checked the time that it was as she stepped through the door. 

08:20. Just perfect. She’d have hardly five minutes in the lab by herself before Moira would be there. 

Even as she started walking down the halls, Angela found herself distracted by something else. Decorations of the holidays filled the hallways as she made her way to the lab. For all kinds of holidays around this time of the year, the most prevalent being simple Christmas decorations of little candy canes and trees. It reminded Angela to attempt to raid the kitchen later on for some of the little peppermints treats herself and make special hot chocolate… One that would remind her of home and make her a little less upset at the impending holiday. 

It was midway through December, and Torbjörn had already been given leave to visit his family for the holidays, and despite the desire to join them and meet the wonderful woman who had hand-knitted her a sweater, Angela had her own work to do as a medic. Clearly, the first thing she needed to do for the day was to check into the lab, check her Nanites, and get the materials for her mission later in the day. That, and to completely drown out any possibility of getting upset about the holiday times. 

If she was being honest with herself, it was still very much one of her favorite holidays. The warmth and togetherness that many of the people in Zurich had for one another, as well as just how friendly everyone seemed to be in their little hospital found family. Angela enjoyed the get-together. 

But here in Overwatch, she wouldn’t be surrounded by her traditions, or her previous coworkers knowing just what to do to warm her forgotten heart. That’s why she chose to bunker down and focus more on work. She needed the spare vials for her mission should her staff run dry. 

Angela checked into the lab just a few minutes before the half-hour, getting her desired wish to have a few minutes to herself as she opened up her laptop. The thing about Moira, it appeared, was she didn’t care much for the holidays. Hell, Angela didn’t even know she was willing to dress up for Halloween until she literally ran into her at the party. She had daunting thoughts of the teasing that came from Reinhardt shortly thereafter, but not about Moira. On if some young man had made comments about her outfit. At least that was a more positive outlook to build on than admitting that her supervisor and coworker was imposing her presence over her subconscious. 

She let out a deep sigh as she opened up her laptop and checked through it. No emails, no notifications, strange but not unwelcome. It would get her out of here faster. 

Despite knowing she wouldn’t be there for long, she pulled out her small package of chocolates, the same ones she had bought ages ago. Well, to be more accurate, it was a new, smaller package. The only one she could find after Halloween had hit, and she doubted she would see any more until well after the holiday season. With everyone doing all of their shopping, and how busy her internal schedule was, there was no way she’d be able to procure herself a larger stock. 

She popped a piece in her mouth as the door opened back up, Moira coming in and heading to her desk without hardly a glance. Thank whatever god for that. If anything, it seemed Moira was in a tad bit more of a rush than usual, hurrying to her desk. It was Angela’s turn to be intrigued by the work of her colleague as she got up, moving to fill a container of Nanites for her staff. As she hooked the mechanism up to fill, she walked over to Moira’s side of the lab, just to see her move to a whiteboard and begin working on some complex equations Angela hadn’t seen her touch in a few days. It was almost like she was…hyper fixated. And just then, just for a moment, Angela forgot to feel embarrassed about the fitful dream she had that included her colleague.

“Doctor O’Deorain…?” Angela noised, an eyebrow perched up as she attempted to make sense of the words. “What has you so wound?” 

Moira did little else but wave her off, just for a moment, smudging a letter or number. “A breakthrough, Ziegler.” She responded shortly. “Do I bother you when you’re buzzing around your boards?” She almost sounded irritated. Good. The further away from a soft voice she used towards her, the better Angela would feel, despite the fact that she wasn’t planning on hanging around long.

Although, she much preferred this version of Moira, determined and set with her work. “You do, Actually,” Angela responded, merely opting to look past her instead of bantering. 

She only observed for a short moment or so, not quite having the best grasp on what the data Moira was writing down meant. Just long enough for her container to fill, and for her to be on her way to the briefing that Ana wanted her in on. Whatever Moira did happen to be working on, it took her attention from the board quickly, and straight to her lab animals. 

What a good morning for her to not give a damn about Angela at all. 

\--- --- ---

Despite getting a decent night's sleep the night before, Angela still couldn’t help but feel herself doze not only in the briefing mission but on the flight to their location. It was going to be an overnight stay, she was told, a campout. The flight itself was daunting enough, and she had found herself clutching her finished and polished staff tightly as she leaned in the seat, eyes shut, and just trying to relax on the ride. 

Without anything to keep her attention, she wasn’t able to keep her thoughts away for too long. Just the very thought of the dream she had, although foggier now that she had been awake for a while, was making her uneasy. Dreams were just dreams, they had to be. 

After some time, Ana had found a place next to Angela, only noticeable by the shuffling of clothing and the seat belt. “You seem troubled today, habibti.” Ana said without much prompting. “What’s on your mind?” 

Angela didn’t really need this. She didn’t need to confess to Ana her troubles as if she was her mother, even more so because Ana was both of their bosses. For all she knew, Ana could take away the privilege that she had given Angela, possibly meaning she would be stuck with Moira further and the situation would never be resolved. 

Despite her unwillingness to confess her problems directly, Angela did open her eyes and look at Ana from the corner of them. “Ana… Nightmares are just that, nightmares, right?” Angela asked her curiously, thumbing the padding of her staff as she spoke. 

Ana reclined a little in the seat, humming as she thought. “It depends on the kind of nightmare. Did you have another nightmare about your past?” Ana asked her in turn. 

She shook her head quickly. “No, no. Something else. Something…” Angela bit her lip. “Something that has been bothering me for a while, I suppose. Something happened in my dreams that I… I don’t think I’d ever do or let happen in real life.” She tried being vague enough that it wouldn’t prompt further questions. 

She turned to finally face Ana completely, studying the focused expression on her face. “Well, sleep is a way for our subconscious to tell our conscious of what’s really going on that we don't know about,” Ana explained. “Sometimes dreams can be a message of something we’re not admitting to ourselves, something we fear, or something we desire. In psychology, certain common dream tropes can mean several things.” She continued on, turning and meeting Angela’s gaze. 

That settled a blush down on Angela’s cheeks, and for some reason, that whole heat was spreading across her shoulders too. And… something else settling that she couldn't quite place, but she knew for sure it was not a good feeling. 

“But.” Ana did sound almost matter of fact like. “It's possible that it was just nothing. And for someone like you, I’m sure it was just that for you. A nightmare.” 

Right. That’s what Angela had called it. A nightmare. 

She tried not to feel any signs of guilt as she kept her gaze low and away from Ana’s own eyes, but a soft hand on her shoulder made her consider otherwise, just for a moment. “What’s really troubling you, Angela?” Ana asked her so soft she could have sworn Ana might’ve been talking to her own daughter. “You’re never this off from yourself.” 

Angela squeezed the staff in her hands just that much harder. But… at least, for right now, there was something else she could use to fall back on to not tell Ana everything. Not just yet. “Its nearly Christmas time.” Angela offered as her excuse now, relaxing in her seat somewhat. “I… I suppose I haven’t quite come to the realization that I won't be able to celebrate it like I used to.” 

Surprisingly enough, that seemed to be an acceptable answer to Ana, who patted her shoulder and smiled. “Just tell me what you need and I’ll try to come close. How does that sound?” Ana offered, just for her. Spoken like a true mother… 

Now she was tearing up, but Angela didn’t mind. “That sounds wonderful, Ana. Thank you.” 

Another friendly pat on the shoulder and Ana was off, surely to go talk back to Reinhardt at the other end of their dropship, thus leaving Angela with nothing but herself and her thoughts again. Sure, a distraction or something for her Christmas ailment would be nice, but it did nothing to help with her current dream problem. 

She could try all she wanted to pretend it meant nothing. But even she knew better than to really keep herself playing the fool for too long. Dreaming about your coworker kissing you and putting a hand up your skirt, after sharing a drunken kiss, meant something. But what exactly it meant, Angela didn’t know. And if she really did know, then she wasn’t sure how to process it. She was brilliant when it came to equations, programming, scientific and medical studies. She could read a simple book in a matter of a few short hours if given the time. 

But interactions with actual people, learning about them, and learning about herself? That was about as far from her skill set that was physically possible, especially now that she had been forcibly taught how to hold a gun, among other things. 

Angela bit her lip and shut her eyes. She heard some vague announcement about their destination not being far, and that was something to look forward to. But even with the buzz of her fellow soldiers in her upgraded position, the turbulence, she found herself drifting away. Drifting and thinking of everything that had happened to her, and her response… Maybe she ought to have a proper chat with Reinhardt in private once this was all over. She really needed a comforting familiar sound to keep her level. 

Hopefully, he wasn’t a close-minded person, with how much he speaks of honor and glory and chivalry of crusaders… Angela needed an open frame of mind for her troubles. All she needed was the words to describe without him turning into another Jesse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm hoping on the next chapter right now, You'll have more Moira and Angela shenanigans shortly, hopefully. As I said, I just wanted some space before the next big thing, and I've got it! So, i hope you guys enjoyed and comments and suggestions are always welcome as per usual. Thank you again for reading!


	24. Hot Chocolate and Läderach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moira invites Angela for drinks on Christmas, amongst other things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to write them getting drunk again, but I couldn't like. Make that actual part happen. Maybe in the future. Hopefully you guys dont mind and you still enjoy :)

Christmas Eve brought a special kind of silence and quiet around the base that Angela appreciated. There weren’t as many people running around about reports, or messages, test and lab results, nothing. In fact, it seemed everyone had retired early. And, if she were really thinking about it, she wished she could have done the same. But Angela knew herself far better than that. If she had tried to go back and relax now, she’d get nowhere, and her thoughts would circle the drain until she yelled out in frustration over one Moira O’Deorain, as she had the past two months thus far. 

She didn’t _hate_ Moira, she just loathed her at this point. Every dream was filled with thoughts of the lab, how her fingers had felt over Angela’s scars, and every day Angela had to sit in the same room knowing this woman was… well, into other women, and saw her as a potential candidate. It took her a few good weeks to remember the conversation they had, and when she did, she dreaded it. How Angela knew nothing, not even about herself, and she hated that. She hated that she didn’t know what she liked, what made her light up in bliss or what would make her happy in life. Beyond her work. That’s what she was here for, she told herself constantly. She was not here to make friends or go on any internal expedition. 

Angela was in Overwatch to develop her Nanites and be a grander force in healing the world. That was what she was promised. She would try to lessen the suffering others had to endure due to the war. 

But damn if Moira’s mere existence was hard to keep that in mind. 

A few days ago, Moira had departed on what she called a ‘dull business trip’, which, Angela couldn’t have imagined why one would be taking a business trip during the holidays. But if it meant that she had the lab to herself for a few days, Angela was more than happy to see her gone. In fact, the very first day she had departed, Angela had set up a miniature Christmas tree with fiberglass lights laced about it. Ana had gotten it for her to sate her holiday blues, which, oddly enough, worked for the most part. 

She turned it on now as she opened her laptop to finish writing her end of year report. Summarizing everything she had done this year, the results, and what she planned on doing with them the next year coming forward, if they were so kind to keep her along. Which, if they had no problem keeping an animal like Moira around, surely they wouldn’t have a problem with keeping her. Right? 

Regardless, Angela sipped at her mug of minted hot chocolate, working away on her report with a bit of pep to every pound on the keys. It was long and detailed with notes of all of her missions and her research thus far. The reaction time of the nanites and a short, yet in-depth note of how her staff functioned and worked, for formality’s sake of course. Not that Ana and Jack needed another run down. 

All the while she kept glancing at her tank of nanites, worn down about a quarter of the way from the excessive use for the year. Then again, a decent amount of them were in her staff, waiting to be used on the battlefield. Just that thought alone made her lips curl a little easier. She had to remind herself to pace it a little better the year following regardless… just in case of emergency. 

The little fiberglass fluorescent made her desk sparkle, and she really did have a bit of warmth in her heart at the small token. It was a shame, though, she wouldn’t have as close of a relationship with a few of her coworkers here that she once had before. It hurt, just a little. 

It was nothing a little more hot chocolate with candy cane wouldn’t fix. 

Angela eventually found herself distracted and reading other medical journals. Something she could have easily done in the Medical Bay or in her room, but the serene peace of her lab made it all the more enjoyable, catching up on her coworker's findings and enjoying every last discovery was the best thing she could do to aide her concern and ailment. 

Just as she was settled and comfortable in her quiet surroundings, the door opened. Angela gripped her mug that much tighter as she suddenly sat straight up in her seat. When was she sitting with her legs crossed in it anyhow? 

The door revealed Moira, looking worn and ragged from travel, but for some reason, it brought her here. Angela cocked an eyebrow at her superior. “Business trip all finished?” she decided to say, relaxing as she learned just who it was that had found their way into the lab. 

Moira looked at her, and although she looked tired, she didn’t seem to be irritated at Angela’s comment. She merely nodded, and made her way over, which oddly enough made Angela tense. “I had a layover in Switzerland.” Moira started off and opened a bag she had with her to retrieve something. 

She watched with intrigue as Moira dug around, just to produce a sizable box with an all too familiar label. 

“Läderach!” Angela was quick to exclaim, seeing the package. While her heart race and her cheeks flushed, she settled back down and just looked at her. “I… You have good taste.” She was quick to say, hoping to calm down her excitement. 

Now it was Moira’s turn to lift an eyebrow as she finished the walk, setting the box on Angela’s desk. Funny enough, there was a small bow on it as well, and the letter A written in familiar scrawl in black marker. “I know you like them,” Moira responded, as casual as one could be. “And, I know you’ve been… homesick.” She seemed to choose the word she wanted very carefully. 

Angela looked down at the box given to her, feeling something in the pit of her stomach that she still couldn't begin to describe, despite every time Moira being the cause. Her face flushed and she looked up. “... And you just so happened to know my favorite Swiss chocolates were Läderach” Angela said softly, not even questioning it anymore. 

Moira nodded to her but said very little else about the issue. “If you don’t mind, I’ve got work to catch up on and rats to take samples of.” Moira had said, quite much like her old self. 

Despite the attitude, it got Angela to smile a little as she opened the box. She just figured even Moira couldn’t stop herself from a little Christmas spirit, and she happily popped a piece into her mouth the moment she got her fingers on it. Oh, how much like home it tasted, how wonderful… 

And all at the same time, how very very heartbreaking… 

Before Angela could really stop them, the tears started to go. She didn’t sob or anything of the like, just felt the wetness on her cheek that she had been all too familiar with lately. She wiped her cheeks with her sweater sleeve and resolved to continue reading, leaving the candies and sipping on her hot chocolate instead. She said nothing to Moira, not needing her to feel bad for the gift making her cry after she was so elated to receive it. It might make it seem like she didn’t like it after all. 

She became a little dour at her situation, trying to soothe herself before Moira had caught on to her tears. It was just a few pieces of chocolate, Angela really had no need to get so weepy. She just… liked the feeling of home. 

One day, Angela decided, she was going to go back. For now, she popped another piece into her mouth, continuing her articles, and hoping that the ache in her body went away over time. That she wouldn’t miss home so much. 

Despite the emotions she felt, she was at least glad, in some strange way, the lab wasn’t empty. That would only make the feelings of abandon just that much worse. 

Over time, it seemed to occur to Moira that she wasn’t alone in the lab either. Angela could see her once she perked up, looking over their desks and meeting her face. She turned to lock eyes, and Moira seemed almost serious. 

“You have no one back home, do you?” 

Despite the pain that went through her heart when Moira said that, she shook her head. “Just a few coworkers. But no family, no.” Angela responded ever softly. 

Moira seemed to nod promptly at that. “I… Don’t have any family around either.” She decided to say, and Angela crooked her eyebrow up in confusion. Of course, she didn’t have anyone on base to go to. But couldn’t she have gone home as well instead of just staying for the holidays? Or perhaps it wasn’t as big of a deal to Moira as it was her. She did seem to be an odd type… 

Angela decided to swallow her pride a little then, continuing to meet Moira’s gaze. “Have they passed…?” 

“In my heart, yes. But unfortunately, they still walk among the living.” Moira sighed, and Angela almost felt a little guilty. Was… there some reason Moira wasn’t welcome with her family of all people? What a strange thing to say. 

Moira did finally face her work again but still looked over at Angela. “If you’d like, Ziegler. You’re welcome to come and share drinks with me again. No kiss.” 

Her face flushed dark and her body ran cold. Hot? It definitely had a feeling. And she hated it. “I… I thought you said you weren’t going to offer again.” Angela decided to respond. 

All Moira did was shrug. “No one deserves to be alone during the holidays.” Was all she said, focusing completely now on her work rather than any conversation that could have been held. 

The invitation shook her, and the feeling it left through her body made her want to throw up. What did that mean…? What did any of the things she was feeling mean? And she promised no kiss…? Was that right? Why was she concerned about Moira kissing her again in the first place as if she didn’t show enough distaste to it to begin with. 

Regardless, Angela nodded to no one else but herself. Drinks on Christmas, sounded like a decent enough plan to her even if the idea of getting drunk with Moira sounded like an absolute disaster. 

\--- --- --- 

Christmas day wasn’t that much better, in Angela’s humble opinion. The halls were really dead with soldiers sleeping in and people keeping to themselves, video calling their families or even socializing together. Angela found the safest place to be right then was the Medical Bay, surrounded by other doctors and all the medical supplies she needed. At the moment, she was wiping down her staff, giving it a thorough cleaning as she needed it in top condition for the next mission she was set to be on, next week she was told. After the new year. 

She did little to prepare, other than knowing she needed her equipment clean. Her yearly report was finished, and there was hardly anything else to do… Which, in a weird way, was quite depressing that there was so little to do. She had done everything she could think of, and it was barely 20:30. 

That didn’t stop her from trying to think of anything she could do to at least stay out of the lab. It was bad enough she had internally agreed to go and drink with Moira again, despite her discomfort about the last time. How was she to know for sure that Moira wanted nothing to do with her? What if they both just got drunk and Angela was stuck in her bed? Useless to say no as Moira had her way? 

Angela wasn't even sure the kinds of things women could do to each other, let alone men and women together. It wasn’t something she thought about, and she didn’t want to. She had her work and that was all she needed in her life… even if her dreams plagued her and told her otherwise. 

She finished cleaning her staff, setting it to the side and sighing as she leaned back in her chair. If anything, she could just walk the halls to occupy her time. Go smoke to ease her worries about potentially being a sex piece or something to that measure. Or worse, just abused in any kind of way… Why Angela had these fears, she didn’t know. Moira seemed to have enough dignity in her to not do something like that to her, even if it was in her deep desires… 

That was it. A cigarette. Maybe she’d find Jesse out there too to ease her insecurities. Despite her desire to do so, she never talked with Reinhardt, and she had been cleverly avoiding Jesse to prevent the teasing. She wanted to talk, to make sense of it all, but she had a feeling that talking to either of them would make her feel some kind of way she wasn’t prepared for… 

Angela got herself about halfway to the outside when she saw Moira turn the same corridor, perhaps on her way to do the same. Smoke a cigarette before having to deal with someone she loathed. 

Well… Angela didn’t necessarily loathe her, now did she? 

Moira was as impeccable with her observations, as usual, pausing to turn her head and meet Angela’s gaze. “Ah, there you are.” She said, almost as if she was even half surprised. “Was wondering where you’d been all day.” 

“Building my tolerance to deal with you all night.” Angela found herself automatically responding, despite the fact they hadn’t been nearly as hostile to one another. 

Moira seemed amused. “Quite the bite, little Angel. Who poked you with their pitchfork?” She asked. 

Angela shook her head. “No one. I’m just not fond of people who think it's okay to kiss someone while they’re drunk.” Angela mumbled, stuffing her hands into her pockets while the anxiety grew tight in her chest. She knew exactly why, and she hated it. Because all it did in regards to Moira nowadays was make her just… antsy and aggressive. 

However, Moira didn’t take offense, leading the way in a different direction, presumably up to their dorms and where her room was. Evidently she had other directions in mind. “Typically the women I encounter in bars are looking forward to a good bedding, in my defense,” Moira said, almost sounding as if she was rolling her eyes while she talked. “Not very often I find a woman that isn’t charmed.” 

She squeezed her hands in her lab coat, chewing the inside of her lip as they walked. There really was no answer she could think of, so she just shrugged. “I suppose.” She mumbled. 

Moira pulled her ID to open that familiar door, letting them both into that mysterious living space that explained so much but left so many questions open. There was also a decent smell coming from the kitchenette… perhaps Moira was making food as well to go with the Christmas holiday? That was unlike her… or at least Angela thought it was quite unlike her. The more she tried to think about it, the more she absolutely knew nothing of Moira, despite the other having quite a good grasp of who she was. 

She repeated a familiar motion, leaning against Moira’s island counter as she retrieved glasses for their drinks. The bottle she pulled looked moderately more expensive than the one Angela still had, half full, in her room. She dared not touch it since that night, terrified that it might have also been an aphrodisiac, despite having drank it as well. That, and it was an awful taste that she could only stand because she was so drunk the first time around.

Moira poured the glasses, offering one up for Angela before turning to what appeared to be a slow cooker in the corner. Where that came from, Angela had hardly a clue. But whatever was inside smelled… amazing, really. She hated that she could give Moira that compliment… 

She took a small sip of the drink, more potent than the last, and felt herself openly cringing. Thankfully, Moira wasn’t facing her to see the look of disgust she just made. 

A few knobs were turned, and Moira reached to grab a few plates for them both, it seemed. Angela raised an eyebrow at the sight. “I thought this was just supposed to be drinks, not dinner.” 

“I was going to do this whether you showed up or not,” Moira responded, hardly looking as she served up two portions of what looked to be slow-roasted pork, with some vegetables in the broth as well. It looked good, edible. “Might as well have a roast on Christmas, even if it's done in a damn Crock-Pot.” She said, handing the plate over to Angela with a fork and all. 

It wasn’t a lot, but there was enough seasoning that it actually smelled and tasted nice. Angela wasn’t complaining as she ate the plate given to her, able to distract herself with food at least while she tried to think of something else to say. Did she really even need to say anything, though? Moira never said she had to stay the whole evening, just enough for a drink or two. 

Which, she hardly noticed she downed half of her drink, a bitter, hard whiskey, over the course of her meal. Moira had finished her glass but said nothing as she ate over the other side of the counter. It was almost like she was pretending Angela wasn’t even there, not that Angela minded one bit. The less she could focus on who she was having a drink with, and just focused on the drink itself, the more fun she’d have. 

Their meal passed in silence, Angela finished her glass shortly after, but did not opt to pour herself another one. She waited until Moira was finished with her own plate, observing the rest of the room to keep her time. She didn’t really get enough time to observe it, but it was fitting for someone like Moira. Right down to the color scheme of rich purples. 

Her silent observance was disrupted by glass clinking glass, Moira filling up her cup again as well as Angela’s own, upon noticing it was empty. Angela hardly flushed, but accepted it and pulled it closer. No, she didn’t want to drink it right now. But she’d be damned if she was going to refuse it either. She was actually thankful that Moira wished to say nothing else, merely accepting the drinks together in tranquil company, on a holiday that seemed to leave them both with haunting pasts. 

Beautiful, perfect, irony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im honestly really drained and I dont have much to comment on regarding the content... I just wanted Moira to have an excuse to be less of an asshole for once and Angelas anxiousness to make her look like an asshole again. its fun to me. 
> 
> Comments and Suggestions are always welcome yall thank you!


	25. Misjudgment Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela wakes up in Moira's room, only confusing herself on her own emotions further...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I ended up not completing NaNoWriMo, BUT I got really close! 42,542 was my final count for November. That really excites me considerng it was my first time trying something like this! I think I really want to give it another try. I hope you guys really enjoyed the burst of activity because of it though! Don't worry, I won't be forgetting this fic any time soon, but updates might get a little slower. 
> 
> With that said, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter!

She did not remember a damn thing. 

No, that was a lie. Angela remembered the first two glasses, the roast they had, but that was it. Nothing else, and her head was practically throbbing. She even almost felt sick as she faded herself back into consciousness. 

Angela awoke, keeping her eyes closed and pulling the blanket tighter over her head. Why she felt like such shit, she couldn’t imagine. The could only think of possibly having gone overboard, despite agreeing to only a drink or two. Did Moira somehow convince her to have more? Who knew. Probably. All she knew was that she was in bed, and wanted to go back to sleep, no matter how her phone buzzed in her pocket for her alarm.

… Wait, why in the world was it in her pocket? 

She tried to open her eyes up a little more, the sun from the window was vaguely blinding her as she tried to wake up. Her phone was still buzzing in her pocket, her backup alarm signifying that she missed her first. But normally her phone would be on her bedside table, wouldn’t it? Did she just not even bother to plug it in as she got back to her room. 

But even as she tried to fish it out of her pocket, to check the time, she figured out the blankets weren’t… quite the same color? Or was the bed even the right size? 

Angela pushed herself up to look around her room, or what she thought was her room. After her head stopped throbbing she was able to process everything around her… slowly. She was greeted with purple satin sheets, pale walls that had two doors, and a closet to the side. It genuinely looked like a small, but about the size of a master bedroom, and the bed she was on clearly wasn’t the same size as the ones in all the bunks. Was this Moira’s bedroom? 

She was terrified to look to her side, only for when she did to be greeted with nothing but empty space. No Moira and all of her clothes were still, thankfully, intact. Except for her shoes. She curiously looked over the edge of the bed, finding her clogs neatly tucked together next to a pair of fuzzy slippers that looked far too large for her own feet. 

This was far from bizarre. Despite her swimming headache, Angela got up from her place in bed and moved to slip her clogs back on. She shivered slightly at the cold leather, standing up shortly after. She needed to get out of here, to get back to her own room and make sense of everything. The fact that she couldn’t remember anything was making her anxious, and who was to say that Moira didn’t merely dress her back up after anything they could have done? The more she thought, the worse her headache became, and the more she just wanted to escape to her room and make peace with herself. 

Her walk came with a slight stumble as she made the door open, and she made the vague attempt to be as quiet as possible. It wasn’t until she walked by the couch that she had noticed something else… 

Moira was stretched out across it, her long legs dangling over one side. She was partially covered with a blanket and was clutching a pillow to her chest. It was odd, the way she was lying, but at least she looked comfortable? By the look of things, Moira didn’t seem to have gotten out of her own clothes, but she did wisely loosen her tie before passing out… No one could half-do their tie like that… 

It was safe for Angela to assume that Moira had kept her word, and merely put her to bed instead of trying to drunkenly escort her through the base to her room. It was almost sweet, in a weird way. But precisely how, she wasn’t quite sure. 

Angela found her ID laying on the counter, and her coat hung up on the rack by the door. How she took it off, She didn’t quite remember. She grabbed it to make way back to her room, and checked the time on her phone, having not done so prior to sneaking out of Moira’s bedroom. 06:45 it read, meaning hopefully, Moira wouldn’t be getting up any time soon to chase her down. Especially not from how drunk she appeared to be. 

She took the long walk that felt like one of shame, all the way back to her room, opening up the door and collapsing on her bed on the inside. Her jacket felt like a ton of bricks weighing her down as she sighed deep into her pillows. For once, she wasn’t completely filled with dread, and she definitely wasn’t worried about something that happened as she was incapacitated… Still, something was gnawing at her that she didn’t appreciate. Perhaps she needed more time to sleep…? 

Angela turned her phone to silent and pulled her pager to sit on the bedside table as her phone charged. Just a few more minutes wouldn’t hurt, and really, there were plenty of other medics on duty, so realistically, she would be fine, right? 

She sunk into her bed, letting her eyes shut and hopefully to quell the swimming in her mind as her hangover headache pounded harder. She just wanted it to disappear, and she knew going back to sleep wasn’t exactly the best method, but a moment’s rest in her own bed was something Angela knew she needed. She just needed a few minutes to shut her eyes and relax… 

…

No. Whatever it was that was biting at her, was still bothering her. Not even trying to doze off in her bed would help. 

Angela found herself checking the time far too often, unable to really drift away despite the comfort she felt amidst her aches. It was ridiculous. It all was. 

Deep down, Angela knew exactly what was bothering her and she hated it. Why was it now, in this time of her life when she was making the most progress, that she had to have these… these frustrating thoughts that teenagers should work through! At least, that's what she always thought of them, anyway. 

Petty crushes were not for 23-year-old scientists. They were for children, and that piece of her died way back when. 

Still. It was daunting. It was haunting enough to Angela that it was becoming a distraction in her work… She had barely made any progress because she refused to be in the lab! 

Damn her headache, and damn Moira O’Deorain. 

She quickly pulled her phone from its place, opening up the web browser for the most childish of reasons. How it had come to something so childish as using a search engine to help satisfy her innate need to have an answer, she didn’t know. It didn’t take long for her to become completely fed up with the ordeal and groan in dissatisfaction. 

Angela got up instead of resting, despite knowing it would help her condition. She changed herself into a fresh garb of clothing that hopefully didn’t reek of alcohol and shame, before slipping her lab coat back on. For the time being, she’d leave her phone where it was to charge, leaving a small piece of distraction behind to make it easier for her to work later on. 

Despite the throbbing in her head, she walked the halls with confidence. Her first stop was the mess hall to get something in her system, then it was straight into the lab. She had programing to touch up on for the wings. Torbjörn would be back soon, after all, and she needed to work with him as much as possible. The sooner the mechanism was finished, the sooner she would be an even more reliable aide in battle, deserving of her badge to join the Strike Team. 

It was some bit of determination she held, and thanks to the earlier time than normal, it was easy for her to get a small plate and a bottle of water to go with it all. For once, the stares from the soldiers didn’t bother her one bit. She even caught a wave from a member of Rizzo’s team, and she waved back with a bit of a smile, but not much else. Her head was throbbing still, after all. She hadn’t any time for anyone to be too cheerful. Even herself. 

In the hour and fifteen minutes it took Angela to get to the lab and start on some form of work, she hadn’t really paid any mind to her condition or the headache she had when she woke up, and found herself in damn near pristine condition by the time 08:30 rolled around, and Moira was in the lab with a mug of coffee with her. 

As she turned to make her way to her desk on her side, she paused to look over at Angela, looking her up and down and trying to process it. She froze briefly under Moira’s gaze, but quickly found herself again and continued to sort through her code. The wings had a specific programing sequence she had in mind… 

“How are you functioning at this hour, Ziegler?” It was all Angela heard from her. 

She didn’t even look up from her laptop. “Good morning to you too,” Angela responded, taking another nursing sip from her water bottle. 

There was a somewhat satisfied noise, and Moira settled on her side of the lab. For the moment, all seemed well. Angela wasn’t bothered, fully immersed in her work and feeling better after her breakfast. The statement of her being able to work was less about Moira’s condition in comparison, as it appeared she was also working just fine under the current circumstances. However much they drank seemed to have put Angela on her ass, and yet she was functioning somehow after some decent food and water. 

It was just something they both were going to have to get used to. 

\--- --- --- 

Angela wasn’t discouraged at any point in the day, but she did nearly forget the time, and in that same group nearly forgot Jesse was going to be outside with a cigarette shortly. SHe quickly picked herself up and grabbed her pack from her drawer and half jogged to meet him outside. Moira had said nothing on her departure, and thankfully, had said nothing the entire time they’d been working together, save for that first exchange. 

It almost felt like Moira got the hint to leave her alone. Or she could sense the emotional turmoil and misery that Angela was currently going through and she decided to not add more onto it for once in her life, for which Angela was grateful. She still wanted to go outside and smoke with Jesse, seeing as it was one of her favorite pastimes during the day, and her only excuse to really talk to him. The cigarettes were just really nice too. 

Once outside, Jesse was already there with his already lit, but not burnt too far down. He turned his head and waved to greet her, a sickening smile covering his face. “Hey, Doc.” He grinned. “Nice to see you. Heard you had an interesting Christmas.” 

“Pardon?” Angela questioned him, moving forward as she pulled her own cigarette from its pack. 

Jesse’s grin only got larger. “Heard you got caught sneaking out of Doc Ock’s room. Tell me why I’m not surprised?” He almost sounded like he was about to bust up laughing. 

Angela on the other hand politely and slightly covered her face at the question. “I… have no idea what you’re talking about,” Angela mumbled, trying to dodge the question as best she could. Which was, in all honesty, quite terrible. 

That got Jesse to crack and he started to laugh an almost uproarious sound. “I heard it was the word around the mess hall, and you even showed up without her! C’mon Angela, what’s she like?” Jesse nudged her. “Is she rough? Or is she really a pillow princess.” 

She groaned, shoving his arm away while she took a drag. “I didn’t have sex with her Jesse! We got drunk and I got tired.” That was all it was, it had to be. There was no way Moira would be that disrespectful to her. 

Right? 

Despite being told otherwise, Jesse still continued to laugh. “I don’t know, that’s just what I heard. There’s tons of rumors goin around about you and her right now.” Jesse responded, flicking some ash off. “I thought you didn’t know what you liked yet.” 

“I don't!” Angela loudly proclaimed, almost throwing her cigarette in the process. “I don’t know what I like and- stop looking at me like that, Jesse McCree!” 

He continued to laugh at her expense, and she buried her head in her arms to try and muffle the groan that left her. She hated being treated as if she was… Was… Well, she actually didn’t know what she thought she was being treated like. She just knew she didn’t like the idea of being everyone's hot topic at breakfast, she didn’t even hear anyone talking…! Maybe it was after the fact? Or someone caught them going to Moira’s room the night before…? Regardless of who actually saw what, it was mortifying. She didn’t want assumptions to be out there on who she was, or what she was before she even knew. 

Her face burned red, that was the worst part about it. She didn’t know anything about herself… and everyone would be making assumptions before she could even figure out to clear her name. The damage would be done and her reputation would be set. Was it even possible to be sent away from overwatch based on rumors and speculation of one’s sexuality? She sure hoped not. 

Moira didn’t seem too keen on keeping her sexuality quiet. So clearly there was no discrimination on sexuality here… 

That didn’t make her internal fight over what it would do to her outside of Overwatch any more daunting. That is if she was even gay at all. 

… By now, Who was she kidding…? 

The silence took a bit of a somber turn as Jesse put his arm on her shoulders, almost a vague attempt to help console her. “Look, Doc, I can be serious for a minute if you’re really having that hard of a time about it.” Jesse offered, and Angela shrugged, slinking under the weight of his arm. 

“I don’t know what to do, Jesse…” Angela sighed, unable to think of anything else to say. “I’ve never thought of anyone before. I’ve always been so concerned about doing my best to make the world better. I’ve never thought of a partner, I don’t know why the lack of one is causing so much… much… Confusion and unrest. I can’t even sleep without being bothered by it.” 

“Oh?” Jesse raised an eyebrow, looking her up and down. She could see the expression out of the corner of her eye. “You’re having weird dreams or something, huh?” 

Angela couldn't help but wish she’d said something to Jesse sooner… she just mostly avoided the topic. “Yes.” She admitted all too easily. “Of… of _her_. I don’t know what to do!” 

Jesse shook his head and pulled her closer, damn near into a hug. “Look, Angela.” A rare use of her actual name. “When I was a kid, going through all this, I just made some moves, did some exploring. Mess around a little, It won’t kill ya.” Jesse told her in genuine sincerity. 

“Easy for you to say, playboy…” Angela stuck her tongue out, despite how childish it seemed. “Everyone knows one another around here, it’s a military compound. The odds of me… doing that are slim to none.” Not to mention, Angela really wasn’t the socialite type. Not unless it included something regarding medicine or science or saving someone’s damn life. She just wished she could save her own drowning ass from social embarrassment and to not become a laughing stock around the base. 

Despite her apprehensive response, Jesse patted her again. “Just think about it. I never said you had to date anyone here. Besides… even if you don’t go and mess around, I think you already got the answer you’re lookin for, you just don’t like it.” 

Angela looked at him a little crossly, but he tapped his temple in a way that got the message across. He took another drag of his cigarette and let it burn out afterward. “Just a few thoughts for you.” He added on, a slight charm of a wink to go with it. 

He let go and started on his departure, not really worrying about the reaction from Angela as he practically left her alone to sort through the words on her own. All it made Angela do was grumble Swiss profanities under her breath and suck at her cigarette more. It was all confusing, and she wanted the evidence to go along with how she felt. Moira’s ever kind stunt of leaving her alone didn’t help her feel any more satisfied with how she felt. Sure, she was left alone, and there was no strange apology when she walked in, which really did mean that nothing had happened. Despite this, the claws that were settled in her stomach gripped her tighter. 

Finally letting her own cigarette burn down to the filter, she stuffed the end back in her carton and decided to sit herself down, leaning against the railing as a cold wind billowed above her. The distant noise of ocean waves calmed her only slightly, and she took in everything she could of her surroundings. She might as well soak up every relaxing thing she could before she made her way back to the lab, and back to more moments of forcing down her concerns and avoiding to snap at Moira for presenting them to her in the first place. 

Damn, how she really did feel like a child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angela's deeper in her pit of confusion. I'm enjoying putting her through it. Dont worry, something is coming soon, fear not! 
> 
> I'm really tired, so I'm going to bed, But I hope you all enjoyed and comments and suggestions are always welcome.


	26. Like A Glove

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela finally tests the pair of wings she's had on commission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah ok so I died thanks to a combination of Moicy Week and the fact I've been hard at work stressing. BUT... I have a few new plot ideas and we're just going to make Angela suffer as much as physically possible. Enjoy the overdue chapter!

The new year greeted Angela with not only an extended stay at Overwatch for the whole new year, but it also presented her with a slightly upgraded computer for her office in the Medical Bay. Not that Angela needed it exactly, but it thrilled her to bits just knowing she was thought of. However Jack and Ana worked it out, she enjoyed the thought. Of course, there were more things that excited her besides that. 

Upon Torbjörn's return, he had brought something with him, a frozen pie from his wife that needed to be heated and served, and much to Angela's delight he had shared some with her when he finally did heat it back in the oven. It tasted just enough like home to get her more into working order, and avoiding the thought that Christmas had plagued her since she woke up that unfortunate morning. 

It wasn’t that Angela necessarily avoided Moira after then, but they both kept to themselves and had said nothing in the lab since. The silence was tense and stressful, and eventually, Angela put a pause on her research altogether. Her body had taken on enough of changes through the development of her nanites, and her mind itself needed a rest from being in such a suffocating space. So she was more than glad to take more time in the Medical Bay. 

Her computer was also a snazzy lure to keep her there, as she had more space and logged more files easily. She was able to keep track of her mission statuses and reports on it as well, which allowed her laptop more room for research only tasks…. At some point in the early piques of January, Angela had found the time and the funds to purchase a small couch for uneasy patients who didn't want to sit in the stiff chair at the front of her desk, and also for her to find refuge in should she be unable to return to her quarters. It wasn’t much, but it did make it more homey and livable. Almost like one of the research offices back in her hospital. Or, even, some of the attending break rooms. How it filled her with bliss to get some sort of memory back from her time there. 

The reports she had to file including plans for the new year, a mission report she had missed, just to name a few things, all combined made her feel more at home. For a few hours of that particular day, nearing the end of January, Angela had nearly forgotten she wasn’t even in Zurich at all. 

Her focus on filing the most recent new recruit that she had checked in was broken by a firm knock on her door, but low to it. Funny how the lower part of it made a different noise than the top. It could only mean that Torbjörn had been the one to find her. Strange, he could have just paged. Regardless, Angela saved her file. “Come in!” 

It was, in fact, Torbjörn, with a rather giddy expression across his face. Angela could only perk an eyebrow up at the interested expression. “Good evening, Doc.” He greeted her. “Could I have a moment of your time?” 

Somehow, his happiness was infectious. It wasn’t often that Torbjörn himself found some kind of menial happiness in something, so it brought a smile to Angela’s face as well. “I suppose. What seems to be the problem, Torbjörn?” She asked, putting her computer to sleep mode should it really be something small and quick. 

He made a motion, turning to leave the room. “Come on, you’ll want to see it before I say anything.” He said, and that sent a million butterflies off in Angela’s stomach. Had he finished it already? It made her giddy to think about it, and brought that smile wider. 

Quickly, he guided the way through the halls of Overwatch, leading Angela somewhere other than his forge. Every step brought more anticipation and excitement through her body. 

Sure enough, they were brought to an indoor training area. The observation shutters were closed, ensuring Angela that this would be a private viewing session. Reinhardt was in the back of the room as well, the plop of protective mats echoed through the room. At the sound of the door, he lifted his head and beamed at the two newcomers. “Angela!” He exclaimed. “Good to see you!” 

Angela smiled, politely waving at him. “Good evening, Reinhardt.” She responded, just loud enough for him to hear her from all the way across the room. 

It was then Torbjörn brought her attention again, still smiling that wide grin. “You already guessed. Your wings are ready. Now don't get too excited, I haven’t got all the fabrications done yet. But I think you should test out the frame before we get all the details done.” He explained. 

Despite that, Angela still made a noise of happiness, grinning too wide to be diminished. “That’s fine. I assume the mats are in case I fall?” 

“Correct!” Torbjörn responded, then brought Angela over somewhere else. Thankfully she had been more distracted by Reinhardt that she had been interested in looking elsewhere, as she completely missed the project they had been working on for so long. 

The frame was polished, carbon fiber and white. There was plenty of padding, clearly temporary, inside the frame which consisted of a steady halter looking object, and a neck brace further anchored by flaring out across the shoulders. The material itself looked mildly flexible, in case she needed to stretch her arms. The mannequin had an attached arm for the armor, and with it was a small gauntlet. Attached via some wires to the back of the harness, it also had pieces that looked like it would wrap around the fingers, all to the right hand. Angela’s right hand.

And of course, at the back of it were wings. The shell went from white to pale blue, to a cobalt color befitting the rest of the mechanical items of Overwatch. Inside the wings were propulsion systems, designed to jet out like feathers, would keep her in the air. Slim, with enough propulsion to let her glide and fly as necessary. There was a battery pack, as well as a charging port for when she wasn’t using the wings. Now wonderful. How fascinating… Structurally, it was done. It was Angela’s job now to fabricate clothing to work with it. “It looks perfect, Torbjörn,” Angela said as calmly as she could, quickly stripping her coat off. It would be just fine over her long sleeve, she figured. 

“Let me help you get it on.” Torbjörn insisted, watching her already move over to the piece of work. “The gauntlet can support itself, it's the collar I’m worried you’ll have a tough time with.” 

She paused, running her fingers over the carbon fiber-like shell, still intrigued and mystified that her plans had actually been going along. They’d actually work properly. She’d fly. Provided this test flight would work well enough. 

They had gone over time and time again how to slip it on and off. All of it clipped in the middle, down her sides somewhere, both magnetically and through latches that wouldn’t let go. Or at least, they had all hoped they wouldn’t. The wings were able to come off, should Angela need to escape or the wings themselves broke during a battle, so they wouldn’t have to be carried as destroyed property and weigh Angela down. Although at all times once powered on, the propulsion system was supposed to work, just to prevent Angela from being weighed down herself.

It took them a few minutes, but after time passed, Angela stood with the entire harness clipped on her, the wings settled, and nothing left but the gauntlet to slide on her hand. It wasn’t too bulky, no more than her medics pack to which she had grown accustomed. The last part was the only bit she hadn’t quite looked into yet, and that was the biggest question of them all. 

“When you slip it on,” Torbjörn held the gauntlet carefully over her hand. “It should take your pulse and start working.” 

She nodded firmly, already prepared for what would come next. It was the moment of truth if the wings would really work or not. For Angela's sake, she quietly prayed that they would. 

After she slipped the gauntlet on to her hand and all of her fingers, she felt the mechanism come to life. Quietly, the motors of her suit hummed and flared, booting up as if it were an older computer system. Despite Angela knowing very well the wings weren't the cause, she felt like electricity shot through her spine. She was excited, energized, and with a quick little tug of the two fingers she knew were not going to send her rocketing into the sky, she made them move. 

Even Torbjörn, despite being the mechanic that worked on them, had to take a step back and appreciate the mechanics. They were a little stiff, but still rather fluid in their movement, going up, then down, extending and falling back. The motors hummed with each movement, and although she couldn’t personally see it, she could feel the warmth of the propulsions. 

No one said another word, not even Reinhardt as he watched from afar. Angela merely walked to the mats, making sure her fingers were gentle with the controls, She pulled her forefinger in, then her ring finger. She was sure to be looking directly at Reinhardt as she did, making her target clear. 

Her hand extended, and without any hint of lag, the suit moved to follow its control. Blue sprouted from the back of the suit, the propulsion system working just as intended as the ‘wings’ flared out. It took her a second to find a proper way to move with it, a little jumped as her feet skimmed the safety mats. The initial jerk had her a little shocked, to say the leased, and she carefully pulled her hand back and let go of the controls. 

Without any cushion to stop herself, the suit nearly dropped her then and there, three-fourths of the way to reaching Reinhardt, and dropped her there. If not for the askew way her body was, she could have been on her feet. Instead, she practically belly dived and face planted into the mats, the wings clicking against themselves in the force. 

There was a bit of a shout from Torbjörn, something she couldn’t hear, but she quickly picked herself up from her chest, shaking her head. “**Oh my god… That was… Amazing!**” Angela felt the adrenaline pump through her, almost in an intense rush like a wave. 

She could definitely hear Reinhardt’s giddy laughing as Torbjörn had run-up to her. “Angela! Are you alright?” 

Angela lifted herself up, dusting herself briefly with the hand that didn’t have the controls. “Yes, I’m fine.” She responded, despite having her body weight and then some slam into the ground thanks to gravity. “I’m alright. I’ll have to get used to learning how to stop it.” She explained, looking at her right hand now that she thought of it. She flexed her two fingers that wouldn’t quite send her flying again, proud of what they’d already done. She looked around the room, looking for something as her mind worked. Torbjorn was too busy trying to fuss over her, not really looking as her train of thought went. 

At last, her eyes connected with something. The climbing wall that had a ladder off to the side of it for spotters. Oh, that would do nicely. Apparently, the smile on her face gave away her plan, and Torbjörn himself had to hold back a groan at her mind already working the ways. Reinhardt, however, grinned and made a motion to cheer her on. 

Without any other moment of hesitance, she moved to the wall carefully, trying to find a proper balance between keeping herself upright and walking towards the wall. “Angela!” Torbjörn was clearly concerned for her. “It’s not open enough in here for your extra function.” 

She paused to turn back and smile at him, confidence brimming from the edges of her smile. “I’m only testing the free fall function. I’ve no intention of activating Valkyrie indoors like this.” She explained. “Besides, there is plenty of mats to cushion me should I forget how to work the suit.” 

That definitely got a jaw-dropping reaction from him. She could see it in his very eyes. “You’re going to just free fall into the ground? None of your fancy medical science is going to speed up a broken spine!” Torbjörn responded, almost offended and panic mixed into one. 

Was it because of her age or her inexperience? Or the fact this was a mildly untested device? Angela herself wasn’t quite sure, but she didn’t find much purchase in Torbjörn’s concern. “I’ll be alright,” Angela promised him, continuing her climb to the top of the wall. Of course, anyone would be concerned about watching a young woman climb on top of something just to leap off of it. 

This was a controlled testing room, however. Reinhardt had been kind enough to put out mats, she’d be fine. Right? 

Angela felt the vertigo hit her as she peered down the wall. It looked an awful lot taller from the top of her climbing wall than it did looking from below. Torbjörn’s small stature and Reinhardt’s contrasting large one did little to help her judge the distance too well. 

_Focus. Breathe._

Where Torbjörn seemed to be concerned, Reinhardt was even beaming. “Have faith, Angela! It might be like riding a bicycle!”

That got her to laugh. It wasn’t quite an accurate statement, mechanical propulsion wings were a lot more complex than a bicycle. Though, he had one thing right. It took a similar ‘leap of faith’ so to speak. 

Angela opened her eyes and pulled in her middle finger. That made the motors in the wings hum, and she felt them extend to a degree. She took a few steps back, until her heel hit the wall, before lunging forward and leap. 

Almost immediately, Angela felt herself getting hung up, almost as if she was held by a zipline. She turned her head behind her to see the flare of light, the proof of the motors behind her working. It was working! She was falling, slowly, to the ground. It was a revolutionary device, fitted especially to her, and lord how it felt amazing. She felt like an actual angel. What she guesstimated to be about a two-second fall, lasted nearly six with her wings slowing her descent.

Her feet didn’t get a chance to touch the ground. Reinhardt’s hands were around her waist to catch her in an instant, and she let go of all functions, allowing her to be completely supported by him as he laughed. “**Angela! You fell down like an angel! Brilliant, my girl!**” He praised her, pulling her into a hug, careful of the mechanics around her chest. 

Angela too started to laugh. Joy filled her as the first genuine push of progress in a little while. Something she hadn’t been trapped in the lab to make. It elated her, made her feel weightless. Just like that fall. Just like these wings. 

After Reinhardt had put her down, Angela turned her attention to Torbjörn, giving him the brightest smile. “Danke, Torbjörn!” She exclaimed, littering off a million thank-yous as she got down to his height, hugging him. Despite his own stunned state, he returned her hug. Eventually, a laugh left him as she pulled away, pressing a kiss of appreciation to his cheek. 

“Thank yourself… I only followed your blueprints, Doc.” He responded, a gentler tone in his voice now that Angela had successfully descended without injury. 

That was what really hit Angela hard in that moment. Without injury. This test flight had gone perfectly, and it thrilled her to bits. That meant that soon after all the fabrications were done, it would be fit for battle. To _really_ save people's lives. To really become an Angel of Mercy. 

What a splendid Christmas gift… 

Angela slowly detached herself from the mechanism. She needed a proper suit and vest to go with it, perhaps something along her sides to help streamline. Once she got used to the actual flying of her suit, it would be that much better to understand what it needed. For now, that was more than enough adrenaline flowing through her. So much that she hadn’t even heard Reinhardt dismiss himself, Torbjörn only hanging around to take the wings back to his workshop, for the time being. Once he departed, Angela allowed herself a moment alone in the large room. The room where she just took flight, defied gravity and human nature. Flew. 

For the first time in a while, Angela’s attention was enraptured. Nothing plagued her. It was almost like the last few months had melted. In the future, Angela could see herself amongst the clouds, flight freeing her from everything that held her down. Not only would the wings give her a better way to observe her teammates, but it would help her view other problems. 

The crash she anticipated didn’t quite come with her wings _on_ however, as she exited the testing room, only to feel chills run down her spine. 

“Enjoy your test flight, Doctor Ziegler?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love surprise Moira? I know I do. Anyway, I've got very little to note on this, honestly, except my entire expression right now is the guy from the office staring through the blinds and I'll leave that up to y'all what it'll mean. 
> 
> Comments and Suggestions are welcome! Thank you all so much for reading as well <3


	27. Internalization

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela, unfortunately, lets her internal struggle get the better of her regarding Moira. At least Ana is here to lend a helping hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long to update. Things prohibiting me from actually doing work came one right after another and, well, of course, this quarantine shit. 
> 
> But I played the video game and I had a long time to think of my next move... So here we are! just to be clear, I had to re-write this chapter 3 times. Anyway... enjoy!

Just the mere sight of Moira had put her heart on pause, just for a moment. This wasn’t normally an area she would pass by, was it? For the moment, Angela had no words, completely caught off guard. 

Moira didn’t have as much of a lack of words as she did, however. “I was taking a deviation in my routine, and I saw the dwarf wheeling away some kind of contraption that I can only assume is your wings you’ve programmed.” Moira seemed unimpressed. Who was Angela fooling, the lanky noodle always seemed unimpressed. “So I’ll ask again. Did you enjoy your test flight?” 

The last few weeks, months even had flooded Angela. She hadn’t talked to Moira since Christmas, and for whatever reason, even if she knew deep within herself nothing happened, she wanted to keep it that way. “**Wouldn’t you like to know?**” She mumbled, moving to make her way past Moira if only to wind up shoving her by her shoulder. The initial response seemed to be only a gruff sounding grunt, Angela was satisfied with that. 

Until Moira decided to respond regardless. “Are you still offset because of Christmas?” Moira decided to ask. “I’ve told you. I didn’t do anything to you.” 

Angela embraced herself, stopping in the middle of the hallway. All previous feelings of freedom and lightness had disappeared. She wanted to forget waking up in Moira’s bed, even if she was completely clothed and appeared to have been untouched. Thinking about it brought feelings and thoughts Angela didn’t want to encounter, more or less talk about with Moira herself. While she was still turned away, she bit her lip. “Unless the problem is that i _didn’t_ and you’ve wanted me to.” 

“No!” Angela snapped back, turning back around to look at Moira now. 

Still as a stone. Her face was cold, except for one raised eyebrow. Angela felt the need to continue, a blush blossoming across her face as she grew both angry and flustered. “I would _never_ want to do anything of the sort with you. I am _not_ interested in women.” Angela asserted, yet even then it almost sounded like she didn’t believe herself. It didn’t help that she had thought about it more often in the last few days than she wanted to mention. The thrill of being able to fly and work on one of her greatest accomplishments helped to distract her... 

Moira’s face remained still, although her eyes appeared to be looking Angela up and down. Moments passed with their staredown, and for a moment Angela believed she might've been able to convince Moira this time. Perhaps it would be the end of future discussions. 

“You are the most in denial closeted person I’ve ever met, Doctor Ziegler.” Moira merely said, choosing then to turn her back. 

Angela frowned but said nothing in denial of the fact. All she could do at the moment was watch as Moira began to walk down the hallway, presumably to go smoke. Angela knew that much. Even still… the insinuation, no matter how true it may have been, stung her. It was one thing for Jesse to call her out of course, but something entirely for Moira to do so. She was the one causing all of her anguish, she shouldn’t get to tell her to her face how much of a mistake that it was. 

Her fists clenched tight, and she shoved them into her coat pockets. Her frustration was bubbling over, but her one place of sanctuary was going to be taken over by the person she dreaded the most. She found another way to try and occupy her time, deciding then to head to the lab. 

She needed to update her nanites now that she knew her wings would work. 

\--- --- --- 

Angela worked, just long enough to know that Moira would be distracted with her cigarette. The moment she had a feeling that she would be returning any time soon, she scooped up her belongings and high tailed it to the only other place she could think. Back into her office in the Medical Bay. 

Her papers had lay scattered just as they were before Torbjörn had come to retrieve her for her test flight. Her desk was a perfect vision of organized chaos… It was almost like it reflected what was going on inside her head. Angela scoffed at such a notion… at least her papers and her desk didn’t have an internal conflict of denying the obvious. 

Angela haphazardly threw her laptop case onto her couch and settled in her chair behind her computer with a seated sigh. She honestly forgot what she was even working on here to begin with… All the reports of missions and her plans for the year were at a loss to her now. Scooping everything up into one manilla filing folder to sort through when she had a clearer head, Angela opened up a different file on her computer. Not quite the program for her nanites, but rather a plan for her wings. She tried to hold on to what she felt as she flew, the weightlessness, the absolute adrenaline that had pushed her to the verge of screaming in absolute joy and pleasure… 

Finally, it felt like some sense of peace could be had. 

And just as convenient as ever, the pager in her pocket had rung off a horrible noise. 

**STRIKE TEAM A**  
DOCTOR ZIEGLER  
CAPTAIN AMARI  
LIEUTENANT WILHELM  
ENGINEER LINDHOLM

DUE IN DOCKING BAY 2  
E-DEPARTURE 10 MINUTES

Now that was a very first since Angela had been enlisted to the primary Strike Team. It had to be something serious if they were called at this time of night. Angela felt giddy, as well as terrified, as she got up from her chair with a practiced reaction she’s had since internship. Running through the halls, she needed something first before she joined them in the Docking Bay. Her staff. 

It meant she had to go run and find herself in the middle of the lab, breathing quite hard. She chose to try and ignore Moira, but barely registered her question of concern as she ran in. Her staff. That was all Angela had needed. 

The blood rushed behind her ears as she moved. This sounded like a serious mission, and it might’ve been. She was determined to prove herself and do well at it, lest Ana decides to repeal the great honor she had given. 

She barely registered anything between her and the Docking Bay. Had it not been for the vivid noise her Clogs made that wasn’t her combat boots, she would have forgotten to move to the locker rooms to change. Within, she had run into Ana, already halfway through with dressing in her combat uniform. 

Angela let the staff all but clatter to the ground as she made haste for her locker, and while she was almost half smiling, Ana chuckled to the side. “You’re eager for an emergency mission, Angela.” 

That made her pause, and she turned back, offering the kindest of looks. “The distraction is very much welcome, Captain.” She responded, pulling her coat off to start pulling at her shirt instead. “Sometimes I think too hard.” The poor excuse was made. 

Ana chuckled a tad bit more. “So I’ve heard.” 

“Huh…?” Angela paused, just long enough to get a good look at Ana as she fastened the brace to her leg. 

“Jesse is quite a talkative lad. It’s hard to believe he kept his mouth shut for two weeks straight in our prison cells. I wonder if his loudmouth got the Deadlock Gang in any trouble.” Ana continued, finishing off with a bulletproof vest strapped tight. “Says you’re having some troubling conflicts in that head of yours. Particularly with your interests?” 

Angela blushed a violent red, facing away and pulling her proper shirt to cover with her blue coat. “I… I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Angela’s voice was very quiet, and she was unable to say anything more on the matter. 

“Come now, Angela. You would know better than to try and lie to me.” Ana responded, sitting on the bench now as she waited for Angela to finish dressing up. “Mothers know best, after all.” 

“There… there's nothing to talk about. I’m settled on my decision on the matter.” Angela said quite firmly. 

Ana made that all-knowing noise, the motherly ‘mhm’ that made it known they were already on to whatever fifteen different lies and stories that one could come up with. “If you are so settled, why does it bother you now that I bring it up?” 

She bit her lip as she tried to think of something, some sort of excuse. “... Maybe I haven’t worked it out.” Angela said quietly. “B-But that doesn’t give Jesse the right to put my business out in the world for no good reason!” She defended, throwing her look to Ana now. 

All that she could see was her superior stifling laughter, just for a moment. “I give him shooting tips every Saturday morning after his debriefing with Gabriel. He has a natural talent for six-shooter revolvers, but that is unfortunately it. I’ve been teaching him to be prepared in case he can’t always keep his Peacekeeper at his side. We enjoy flattering conversations… Besides.” Ana shrugged as she folded her arms. “I would be a terrible Captain if I didn’t know why my most talented scientist and medic was staggering her research. You’re avoiding Doctor O’Deorain because you’re having a hard time accepting your feelings.” 

“At least you made it a compliment…” Angela rolled her eyes, voice quieter now as she was less volatile. “... I... She kissed me, Ana, I-” 

“I’ve heard that as well.” Ana quipped. “That’s what started all of this, isn’t it?” 

Angela merely nodded as she got her vest on. “Yes.” Was her simple response. 

Ana nodded, politely waiting as Angela moved to finish getting ready, preparing herself for the fight to come. Whatever happened would need to distract her, and soon. Hopefully, they would be briefing on the flight there. “We’ll hold off on it now,” Ana spoke to her after she had picked her staff back up. “But, Angela. Take it from me. Nothing you’re thinking about or experiencing is unnatural. It is one of the most human things I’ve ever seen you capable of. You might be surprised to know you’re in much more common company than you thought.” Ana settled on. 

Her grip on her staff only got tighter. “... Even if I am.” Angela said. “And if i can come to accept that, which I don't even know if I will be able to, I want to make it clear. I _do not_ like Doctor O’Deorain.” 

“Perfectly noted,” Ana said quaintly, moving to pick up her own closed case. Her sniper rifle lay inside, Angela knew it, and it was quite the impressive display of firepower. Not that Angela wanted anything to do with it of course. 

Their walk to the docking bay was short, stiff even. Angela felt her entire body boil. She hadn’t meant it to, but God did thinking of what was going on inside difficult, even with someone as capable as Ana Amari. Did that mean she saw right through Angela’s facade before? Asking about her dreams… 

Did Jesse tell her it was a wet dream? God, her face was burning more than she meant it to now. She had grown distracted enough to whack the end of her staff into a door frame, and Ana had merely chuckled. “Angela.” She said softly. “You're Not the only woman interested in other women on base. Neither is Doctor O’Deorain.” 

Angela settled in a frown as she changed her position with her staff. “You already told me.” She said quietly in her defense. 

“Yes.” Ana nodded. “But, I’m one. So perhaps you can find some common ground with the subject without going to Jesse.” 

Angela blushed darkly. “B...but Captain… You and Reinhardt…?” Her words were whispered as they got closer to the dropship. “... If you like women, how can you…?” 

“Both is an option too, Angela.” Ana chuckled faintly. “Both is _very_ much an option. Does that make your life a little easier?” 

It wasn’t exactly like she didn’t think about it. She did, of course, from time to time, but it was just confusing enough to question it all in general that she hadn’t thought of it for herself. “... No?” She responded quietly. 

“In due time,” Ana responded, making her way to Reinhardt now. Everyone was already prepared in their armor and equipment. Angela tightened her grip around her staff, something uneasy around her body. 

“**Both, huh…?**”

\--- --- ---

The mission wasn’t as bad as Angela had initially feared. Well, of course, there was wounded to attend to, and Torbjörn had suffered quite the gash along his flesh and blood arm. By the time she managed to return to her bunk, it was deep into the night. A debriefing was due before noon, but at least she could rest, think of what she would write for the injury incident report. At least there were no casualties. 

Angela didn’t bother doing much beyond kicking her boots off before she had decided to throw herself onto her bed, it creaked with not only her weight but the additional weight of her medical vest and her staff still held in a tight grip in her hands. 

The device worked exactly how it was intended. All that Torbjörn required upon entering the ship was a few, small stitches and a cloth bandage. A retreat wasn’t even ordered at the injury. It was quite the impressive feat… even if the gash wasn’t that bad. 

Still… Angela stared at the technology in her hands, her mind wandering to the lab she had developed inside of it… and the woman that plagued her very thoughts. Not just that, but something more. Something that haunted her beyond that. 

Once again, Angela finds herself pulling her phone from some forgotten portion of her pockets. A search was conducted, a few previous links tapped on, a few new ones introduced into her search. Each line made her heart clench and flutter in uncertainty. How she hated the feeling… But… was this really what she was looking for? Or rather, what she was denying the whole time? 

Angela groaned as she merely tossed her phone across the room, turning over and throwing her head into the pillows. “**Why me…?”** She whined into the pillows, feeling her gut tighten themselves into uncertain knots. Not uncertain, just confused. Confused and clarified all at once. “**Is it that simple? I haven’t even… dated, been with anyone…**” She spoke her uncertainty to the pillows, but she knew exactly who she was speaking to, and what for. 

Angela twisted her head just enough to look up at the ceiling, an action she had grown fond of doing over the past few years. “... **Would you both be proud of what I’ve become…? I’m not your soft little girl anymore…**” 

Her question was oh so obviously met with silence, and she let the exhaustion take her over before long. For the first time in what seemed to be months, Angela was finally able to get some rest with peace… Even if she still had no idea what she was. 

Hell, did she even know who she was even more while she was at it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case it wasn't perfectly clear, Ana Amari is a Bi Icon as duly noted from her Sniper skin. This woman is bi and she pegs. End of story. 
> 
> forreal though. Angela hasn't settled on anything regarding Moira yet... but she sure has (almost) figured out herself. Until next time!


	28. To The Ground; Her Life Before Her Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela finishes the base of her suit to go along with the wings. Despite taking flight, Angela could not have hit the ground harder...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So believe it or not, this bit in my original timeline was supposed to be around chapter 13 or so. And this fic wasn't supposed to go much farther than 100k. But here we are, more than double where I had intended this to be. That's what you get for using a two year old fic as your basis point. Anyway, enjoy!

Angela had kept her uneasy distance. She had managed to shuffle the uncertainty of her identity away, for she had no true way to confirm this for herself. Instead, she had thrown herself into fabrication. Her wings needed a suit to go with them. Ana had ever so kindly offered her the Cobalt blue material used by Overwatch soldiers and their uniforms, not to mention a few patterns to help her along. It had taken her more than a month to get a solid, set pattern. At least sewing had brought her to separate herself from Moira. Avoiding Moira meant avoiding anything to do with her identity. She welcomed it almost far too easily. 

All good things must come to an end eventually, as Angela finished what she could only describe the skin-tight schematics of her suit. This didn't include what she had planned, the armored skirt that would deflect wind and bullets alike, or at least she hoped it would. Not to mention the arm bracers she still needed to place. Those were an additional function… one that she opted to share with no one but herself and her laptop, now equipped with proper sleep and password-protected functions. The last thing she needed was Moira intruding on her thoughts again. She had barely gotten away with Moira not revealing her secrets before, but to know she planned on keeping a steady stream of nanites ready to inject at her command was something else entirely. Angela wouldn't have that information held above her head by any means. 

However, Angela could not, and would not, ignore that she still needed Moira's help with her injections, however rare and spread apart they were. The fear of passing out of bloodloss, nearly dying again, was still too fresh for her to want to repeat no matter how skilled she was at her own medicine. No amount of preparation would avoid the absolute terror she felt losing that much blood again. Hell, it took a large bit of control to not pale or revolt at the sight of a bleeding wound nowadays. It was her profession. She needed to be able to tolerate it. At least for the moment. 

With the basic exterior of her suit done, all Angela needed was to fit it with the wings, attach it via the clips and locking mechanism she had installed across the suit itself. It still wasn't finished, but Angela could take more liberty with it now, wearing it and taking it for more tests. She had worn the frame of the wings once more, just within the training center, but nothing more. Torbjörn was still unsure of the frame's capacity, even as Angela held confidence in it. With her suit in hand, it meant she needed to go to the lab, that was where she had kept her wings after all. There was nothing she figured Moira could do to them there, nothing to sabotage and nothing to siphon. It just ultimately meant Angela would have to face her. 

The walk to the lab was easy, quick, only mildly filled with dread. She didn't want to see Moira, she didn't want to talk to her, anything. 

The lab doors slid open with a touch of her ID, and she was welcomed with the squeaks of rats resting in a cage at the center of the room. Moira hovered over the table with a tablet in her hands, paying absolutely no mind to the door. Her glass piece was scrolling with stats, Angela could tell from the door. She kept to herself as she made her way to her desk, and standing proudly next to it were her wings on display, with the controlling gauntlet on a supportive branch. That was also another reason she had yet to finish development, she needed to find a way to keep the gauntlet as well as her bracers without it being obvious what had happened. Perhaps shrinking the gauntlet to a much smaller wireframe… 

Lost in her thought of careful planning, Angela had nearly forgotten Moira's presence, and the words she used to announce herself. "Playing Dress Up now, are we Ziegler?" 

Angela shook her head. She would not answer. She didn't need to answer. All she needed to do was get the suit and wings set up. That was it. Then she could leave and lend her hand in the Medical Bay for all she cared. She did not need to be here, she did not need to be around her. That was it. She carefully set her suit on her desk, moving to unplug the charging cable attached to her wings, before pulling the wings off of the dummy ever so carefully crafted in her dimensions. For only a moment, she placed the set up in her chair before moving to pull the suit over. The top half of it was colored blue, navy along the sides and a proper shade down the middle. After the waist, the colors had tapered to black and white, thermal clothing to protect her legs from the cold winds. Her chest would be fine, having the propulsion system to overheat her. Not only that, but part of the top of the suit was a bulletproof vest, perfectly built-in. The Kevlar material extended to the straps that would hold the frame of her wings in place. Angela had tried it on before she came, this was true, but seeing it fitted to the dummy was even better. 

Next came the wings, after she had secured the zipper. She pulled the metal frame over the dummy again, it having only a slight bit of trouble fitting over the bulletproof material. The clips were fastened, straps tightened, and before long, Angela had a nearly completed suit before her. It was beautiful. She took a few steps back to admire her work, glancing across it all. It wasn't finished, she still had more to put together in her room, but this was turning out to be perfect. She was going to be everyone's guardian angel. The granter of Mercy. 

How funny it seemed to be. 

Now this time there was a chilling presence behind her. "Surely, you plan on adding more to this tactless suit?" Moira's voice made her blood run absolutely cold in seconds. 

Angela turned, looking Moira up and down before she decided to settle on something. "Doctor O'Deorain, it is still a work in progress. Have a little bit of mercy." Angela said, looking her up and down before turning back to her suit. Her face must've burned, but she was determined on staying set. She didn't like Moira, and she didn't have to be in here longer than necessary. Though… something came to mind as she looked her suit up and down. 

It could do with the update she had programmed not long ago. That would be a useful bit of her time, wouldn't it? The function she had so lovingly named Valkyrie Mode. 

This was, of course, dubbed the Valkyrie suit. It was befitting to name the most powerful and strenuous modes after it. Fully controlled flight, with her hand as the beacon and the wings to follow wherever it leads. That was the hope Angela had if it worked properly. The wings had the power, it was just a matter of ensuring proper installation. Of course, while it was always in her plans, she never told Torbjörn that it wasn’t in the original installation process, despite his concerns the first time she tested the suit.

She found a cord from her laptop that would plug into the mechanism on the back of the wings. That's where everything was, the processing unit, the power cell, it was all centralized in the back of the suit. She didn't even mind that Moira showed no signs of going away or backing down as she moved about her suit, moving to plug the USB into the back of the wings before sitting in her chair. Even after she opened her laptop and fixed on it, she saw Moira from the corner of her eye going around to the suit, examining the back of the wings as Angela had plugged them. 

When she opened her coding software, connecting to the wings themselves, Angela tried not to laugh at the very _animated_ reaction that Moira had displayed. The light at the back of them had glowed, and the wings extended outright to the sudden power surge, before slowly collapsing back down. "Very funny, Ziegler." She quipped, deadpan as ever as she made a move back to her work of properly shelving the rats. A small victory for Angela this day.

The update wasn't supposed to take long, and after she had properly implanted the file, she waited for the bar to load. She listened, hearing the propulsion systems coming to life. The pleasure she got from listening to it, watching progress being made on such a substantial breakthrough… her heart was pounding, just thinking of what she was about to get herself into. Not even Moira, as bitter as she had been the past month. Not Moira, as she had felt the need to be cold and turn away from her like when they had first met, nearly a year after then. Nothing would ruin her advancement. 

Before her eyes, the system had finished updating. Her final program was updated and installed on the mechanism of her wings. 

Angela felt her heart thump rapidly in her chest. The change in her attitude and atmosphere seemed to be noticeable, even across the room. In a quick but careful rush, Angela was slowly dismantling her suit from its frame, wings and all included. 

Moira frowned from her end of the lab, Angela felt that cold stare, and she couldn’t help but smile above the frame of her wings. “Ziegler, what are you doing…?” 

She left absolutely no room for conversation as she moved out, leaving Moira to abandon in the lab. Months of work, a full year of feeling grounded, watched by hawks, even if they meant no such intention. Angela wanted to test the fastens of her suit, the wind resistance she had thus far, and of course, the function that mattered most. 

\--- --- ---

The waves crashing around the rocky bluffs of the watchpoint were calming notions to the thumping behind her ears. Just what Angela planned on doing was practically madness, and anyone who hadn’t known her would assume she was about to plummet to her death. 

Her newly fabricated suit felt tight, but not constricting. Like a second skin almost. She felt secure around her entire chest, despite the weight that came from the wings fastened into her clothing. The gauntlet on her hand was comfortable, not too constricting, though she knew that already. With the suit to go with it, it almost felt too natural. 

Angela peered down the cliff, watching the waves as they moved, crashing together and into the rocks before she shut her eyes. 

Deep, slow breaths. This was no different than jumping off the climbing wall. 

Except, of course, if Angela’s tech didn’t work properly, she’d be in the water, helpless. 

But she was Angela Ziegler, a prodigy trauma surgeon, and nanobiotic developer. She had prevented her own death twice. She would manage to avoid it a third time. 

She flexed the wings, pulling her forefinger in to fan them out. Including her middle finger brought the whir of the propulsion systems to life behind her. The slow descent feature sounded as if it would still work. Good. 

Something made her want to almost turn her head, to look behind her. But she didn’t. Whatever noise that she thought she heard, must have just been her imagination, right? 

Right. 

Angela took a few steps back, just as she had before. This was a much larger drop than the training area. More room to give her wings time to work. A more painful fall should she fail. 

She wouldn’t. 

Angela gave it a running start, throwing herself off the cliff with all full confidence that she had in the training room. She had let go of all the controls, completely free falling towards the ocean below. 

There was a shout. A name. She heard something, but not above the rushing of wind past her ears. 

Quickly, Angela pulled her pinky finger in, as well as her forefinger, and lifted her hand wearing the gauntlet. The familiar feeling of a 'zip line' yanking her entire body made her gasp, almost losing her breath. It nearly made her lose her grip in the gauntlet, but she held steady. She held it out in front of her, and she felt the wind rushing over her face in an entirely new sensation. 

Angela opened her eyes to find herself gliding, not a mere ten feet above the water. Her reflection was shaky amongst the rolling waves, but it was clear. And behind her, was the bright and powerful light of the wings propulsion system, blue and almost a _fire_ in her vision. The suit worked. It was working, and she was _flying_ above the ocean of Gibraltar. Her quick-paced breathing turned into stuttering laughter, unable to be contained even by the force of the wind and the faint taste of salt on her tongue. 

She slowly pulled her hand up, allowing her to rise. Climbing up in the air put a more forceful strain on the wings that she anticipated, the system working harder to compensate for her weight. Soon, Angela pulled her arm as high as she dared, allowing herself to climb towards the level in which she had started her fall, and then some. Seeing the compound fly by her was a different feeling all on its own. 

Angela was flying. She was as free as any bird, not even the sky was her limit anymore. 

She moved her hand, letting it control where she went. For the first time in months, her mind felt clear and she felt… weightless. She had even momentarily forgotten everything giving her grief or stress. The fact of free-falling and daring to defy the laws of physics, as well as life and death itself, was a feeling nothing could topple. Smoking had never come close to giving her this sort of clarity or high. 

Angela let her eyes off of the skies, finally, to find someone else standing at the cliff where she had lept. A tall, white figure, topped with red… Moira had been there. 

After climbing a considerable height, Angela had completely let go of the controls for the Valkyrie function and instead had pulled her middle finger in again. The slow descent function activated, and she slowly made her way to the ground. She already placed herself for how she needed to land and roll, or she would have. 

“Ziegler! What the hell did you think you were doing!?” 

She didn’t account for Moira rushing from her position. 

Without planning, Angela had come very close to toppling Moira where she stood at the edge of the cliff, the force of her fall bowled into Moira and made them both fall to the ground. Angela had completely let go of the functions then, trusting she wouldn’t mind supporting her on the way down. 

Even with the ruffles and thuds that came with them hitting the grassy cliff, Angela was still smiling, on the verge of laughing. All she registered at that moment was Moira below her. Shocked, concerned Moira, scanning her entire being for any ounce of fault or injury. “Ziegler you could have gotten yourself ki-” 

The sound was silenced. 

Lost in her joy, her elation at pulling off such a reckless and impressive feat, Angela didn’t want to hear Moira’s concerns. So she had done the only thing that felt instinctual. 

She silenced Moira with a kiss. 

For a moment, Angela’s eyes were closed, lost in her euphoria. It took just a few moments until she realized she couldn’t breathe before she had pulled away. The happiness she felt had slowly drained from her face, realizing what she had done. Within moments, Angela’s face was a violent red color, her face mere inches from Moira’s… who’s face mirrored her in every single way possible. Now her heart was thumping for an entirely different realization. 

Despite her newfound freedom of flight, Angela felt the world come down around her. 

She had kissed Moira, the woman she had been convincing herself for months she hated. 

Moira, who kissed her while they were drunk. 

Moira, who had made her question every single piece of herself since the moment of arrival. 

“Moira… I…” Angela stuttered, forcing herself to try and get up. She only then realized she was practically sitting on Moira, and she had tried to get up further. When she found she couldn’t get her footing, she had used her gauntlet, her wings. The ring finger pulled her up enough to get her on her feet, allowing her to look down at Moira, still on the ground, practically speechless. 

Needless to say, it was a first for Moira, but Angela didn’t register that. 

The next thing Angela recalled doing was running. Running as fast as she could back to the interior of the base. To her room, where she could retreat safely, and rationalize just _what the actual fuck she had done._

The wings clacked behind her, almost a natural sort of feeling. She figured after she had already made her way to her room with trembling hands, she could have used the propulsions to speed her way, but rationality was lost. The travel was a blur, as was her door opening. The click it gave when it shut was unmatched by the clunk of her wings against it as she threw her back against the door, begging for some sort of grounding presence. 

The uneven breathing turned into shaking as she slid to the floor, her gauntlet-free hand coming to touch her lips. Angela oh so vaguely recalled the feeling, reinforced from her drunken kiss as well. Despite the sharp angles and horrible attitude… 

Moira’s lips had been quite soft. 

Had she truly done that, merely off a fit of happiness and excitement? Angela’s hand slowly clenched into a fist as she continued to shake, almost choking up with her words. “What… what have I done…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before i get all the comments telling me Angela's behavior doesn't make sense, I think we've all gathered shes in denial, yes? And She does show quite extreme joy at her projects working out... I see it as perfectly reasonable. 
> 
> I would love for any questions or concerns, or anything of the sort. I'm glad for all the comments and people I've received thus far, really, they do help encourage me! Comments and Suggestions are always welcome and hopefully, I can get the next chapter out now that we're no longer puttering around the obvious.


	29. The Demon Knows Your Secrets, Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela decides its time to finally face her demons (or rather, demon). Who knew temptation was so enticing...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking a little longer than usual with this, buttttt I think you all are gonna enjoy it. Its nearly twice as long as my normal chapters so take that as you will. Enjoy :) (ps, you'll really need to remember that **bolded statements** are in whatever language the character speaks that isn't English. )

Despite her shaking, Angela forced herself to stand. It was so hard to breathe, especially with the suit on. What had she done? _What had she done!?_

Angela stripped herself as quick as she could, allowing the wings to plop on her bed with an unsatisfactory click to them. She just silently hoped and prayed she hadn't broken them on the way to take them off. She was stripped nearly bare in her room, the cold air doing little to ease her shivering or to ground her sooner. 

She had kissed Moira. On her own volition. 

Just when she was so close to closing the mystery that was herself and her attraction, she had to go and do this. Who was she kidding by this point, it was no damn mystery.

As she hated to even think it, admit it, Angela had something for Moira. If she was refuting it before, it couldn’t be done now. She had just kissed her after all. No amount of telling Moira it was a slip during the fall, an _accident_ would ever persuade her otherwise. 

The kiss was deliberate. They both knew that. Moira was too intelligent to think anything else as an assumption. 

Angela pulled her shaking hands together to find clothes. She needed to at least retrieve her laptop, to start her report. Her update, what she had done and discovered today. She could do that. She could drown herself in her work and forget all about it. Perhaps if Moira was merciful, she would also ignore what had happened. It wasn’t that Angela had feared what Moira would so much as do, but what Ana or heaven forbid, Commander Morrison would do. 

At her hospital, workplace romances were forbidden. She had seen surgeons be suspended or even terminated for having flings in on-call rooms. Sure, Ana got away with it… whatever it was that she was getting away with involving Reinhardt, but that was because Ana was one of the top tier members. The right hand to Commander Morrison. 

Moira was a high ranking scientist, enough to have her own mini-apartment. Angela was lucky to be there at all, even if Ana had believed in her work. She could very easily just get turned away or sent back home, and all of her research would be for naught. 

A sudden knock to her door jolted Angela, even as she pulled her shirt over her head to finish making herself decent. She paused, staring at the metal door, her eyes intricately tracing the blue lines laced within the door. It was almost certainly Moira behind it, it had to be. Her breath was still as she waited, watched, anything. The knocking continued, just a few short raps and Angela could very faintly hear a sigh and some muttering. At least, it seemed like muttering. Angela never really gave enough credit for how nearly soundproof the walls seemed to be. 

That did not encourage her thought process at all worth a damn. 

The moments passed, and eventually, the knocks no longer persisted. For the moment, her greatest fear was gone. 

Just for the moment. 

Angela found her lab coat and slipped her clogs on without another second of hesitation. She needed to grab her laptop and lock herself away until the morning. She wanted no chance of dealing with Moira, even if she knew exactly where she was going. 

She gave her at least five minutes before she snuck out of her room, hands stuffed into her coat pockets as she tried to make her walk brisk but not panicked. It didn’t help to have her heartbeat in her ears thrumming like a ticking bomb. It felt anything could make it explode, even if medically speaking, that wouldn’t happen. 

Rationality wasn’t a good thing to talk through her panic. Not medical rationality, anyway. 

Successfully avoiding any peering eyes, which was odd given the time of day, Angela made it back to the lab in one safe piece. That is, without losing her nerve or her brain on the way over. A swipe of her card and she was inside. Her laptop lay open, all she needed to do was rit off the desk. That was it. 

Angela moved quickly as she made her move to grab her laptop, careful not to slam the lid of it shut too fast or too hard. After retrieving her laptop case, she slung it all over her shoulder. So far, so good. There was no sign of Moira in the lab anywhere, meaning she should have been safe. No Moira, no confrontation. It was almost far too convenient, and if Moira hadn’t been looking for her, she would be back before long.

As she moved to get out of the lab, she had run headfirst into something… plush. 

She stumbled back, merely to look up and find Moira there, looking down at her. 

With that ever same stoic expression on her face. Had she even cared at all of what happened? Or did she convince herself that Angela’s actions were an accident? 

Even as Angela stepped back, Moira stepped forward. The doors shut again, leaving them alone and secluded in the lab with nothing but the rats to squeak about somewhere near the back wall. Why did she still look so unimpressed, intimidating… It made Angela blush under the look she received. 

“Ziegler.” Moira had said quite sharply. It made shivers run down Angela’s spine. 

She gripped the strap to her bag tighter, backing another step away. “I… I’m sorry. I, I didn’t mean it I-” 

“What did you mean, then,” Moira responded, raising an eyebrow in Angela’s general direction. 

It all only served for her to shrink back more. She opened her mouth, struggling to form words, struggling to form any coherent thought at all. She didn’t want to be here, all angela wanted to do was to hide away and pretend none of this had happened. She could return to work and do everything in her power to physically avoid Moira for the rest of her life in Overwatch. “I don’t know” was the only thing that came out of her mouth. 

Moira sighed, her entire disposition changed. She pinched the bridge of her nose while shaking her head, almost exasperated. “Ziegler, for fuck's sake. You are the most confusing woman I’ve had the displeasure to deal with.” She said, almost sounding sharp. 

Angela’s grip was white-knuckled on her strap now. “Well… So are you!” She had finally piped up, making Moira finally make eye contact with her again. She felt fear shiver down her spine, just for a split second, before she steeled herself. “You… you’re arrogant! And… And you use your seniority to talk down to me. I don’t appreciate not being treated equally, and I especially don’t appreciate you treating me like I’m-” 

Moira had moved, prompting Angela to freeze mid-sentence. The way she towered over her was intimidating at best, and terrifying at worse. Especially with that rigid look in her eyes. “Ziegler.” 

She couldn’t. Any nerve she had was gone. Absent so long as Moira continued to look at her like that. Almost… hungry. Angela couldn’t keep the contact, shutting her eyes. 

There was a cool sensation along her cheek; long, slender fingers. She’d felt them before, up her arm and along her abdomen, searching her scars and helping her with her nanites. Despite the chill, her body heated further. 

When Moira’s lips had met hers once again, Angela’s entire body had melted. 

There was no sudden surprise, nothing was unexpected with the touch. No words or trains of thought were cut off with the kiss, but Angela sure as hell couldn’t think of anything else but Moira’s hand on her cheek, and her lips on her own. 

That embarrassment and warmth had spread across her body and she practically fell apart. In a vain effort to keep herself upright, Angela wrapped her arms around Moira’s neck, a slightly blind grab. It pulled them closer into the kiss and she let out the faintest, softest hum of noise. 

It was just like in her dreams, if not so much better. 

But of course, once Angela had realized it wasn’t a dream, she opened her eyes, pulling away from the kiss and trying to look up at the one who brought her world crashing down. 

Moira herself looked particularly intrigued if that was even the correct description of the look on her face. Her hand, however, still rested softly on Angela’s cheek, cool against the burning red fire that brightened her face. 

“You really need to stop talking sometimes.” 

Angela just frowned at that, pulling out of her hold completely. She readjusted the strap on her shoulder and kept her gaze at the ground, grumbling something unintelligible. “You need not rile me like that.” She said instead, letting the door open from motion control alone. 

She could hear Moira sigh behind her. “The lab isn’t the place for this. We’ve had an eventful day, and we need to process just what we’ve done to each other.” She said, her tone more exhausted than anything. 

“And just where are we supposed to talk about this?” Angela questioned, looking over her shoulder. “Surely you don’t mean an audience with Captain Amari.” 

“Not at all,” Moira responded. “My room. After eight-thirty. We’ll have a proper talk about all of this like we should have months ago.” 

Angela couldn’t even dispute it. She was right, this is something they should have talked about a long time ago. Angela couldn’t help the twist in her gut as they spoke this forsaken meeting into existence. She said nothing as she moved through the doorway, leaving Moira alone in the lab by herself.

She had work to do. Feelings could wait until after her report was drafted. Couldn’t they? 

\--- --- ---

Despite her intentions to do so otherwise, Angela couldn’t write her report. She had disappeared for two spare cigarette breaks, off-tempo from Jesse’s own. After all, even if this fiasco wasn’t going on inside her head, Jesse had still gone behind her back and told Ana about her distress. She was angry at him, and he assured her that she had every right to be. 

Angela glanced at the clock on her laptop for what seemed to be the millionth time, fighting to bite back her sigh of frustration. She had barely a few paragraphs, and not even all the details were filling in properly, mostly because she was distracted. She knew exactly how she was distracted too, she just didn’t want to admit it. 

Angela Ziegler was not a woman who let her feelings consume her. No amount of distraught emotions or losses would ever weigh her down, that was the vow she had made to herself when she had become an intern. No matter the cost, she would keep a level head. She had to.

This wasn’t one of those times she could simply ignore the swell. Given earlier, how she had slipped so seamlessly into Moira’s arms during that kiss, how they had fit so well together. How, now that she thought about it, Moira’s touch felt pleasant against her, and that kiss… 

She felt a shiver go down her spine just at recalling it. That kiss. The kiss out after her flight. And gods, that drunk kiss they had where Moira just wanted her to shut up. 

Perhaps she had a point. 

Angela shut the lid to her laptop, much calmer this time around. She had a meeting to get to if she could even call it that. Peering under her desk, Angela saught a particular object that would help her deal with this stupid scenario. 

That bottle of whiskey she had taken from her birthday. 

She quickly took a sip straight from. The bottle, shivering as the liquid downed and warmed her from the inside out. It didn't give her much in the realm of confidence, but maybe by the time she got there, she'd be a little more relaxed about the impending conversation. It left nothing but knots and anxiety as she walked the halls, lab coat abandoned in her room for the soft-knit sweater she received for Christmas. Angela made the short walk to the next wing of living quarters, finding that familiar path to Moira's room. 

The light to the door was green, signifying that anyone who rapped on the door could gain entry. Angela gave it a swift knock or two, before standing by it, completely idle. 

Her wait wasn't long as the door opened with a quick shutter, revealing Moira standing in the doorway. She was already dressed down, her tie cast elsewhere, lab coat hanging on a hook just by the door. There was no other indication that Moira had even given a thought to their situation or circumstances. In fact, she looked just the same. Stoic, stone-faced, and like she could snap at Angela at any time. For some reason, it’s taken Angela just this long to realize it may perhaps just be her face. 

“Good. I was concerned you were going to get cold feet on me.” Moira started, allowing the door to shut as Angela moved forward. She tried to ignore the fact she heard the door lock behind her, but given the situation, it was best no one attempt to disrupt them. “Then again, a few hours ago you threw yourself off a cliff. I shouldn’t be surprised.”

Angela straightened herself up, watching Moira move now from the door back to the kitchen. “My social compass is a different thing from testing my Valkyrie suit.” She said sharply. 

Moira almost snorted. “You’re calling it ‘Valkyrie’?” She raised an eyebrow, pulling a mug from the shelf for what appeared to be coffee. Did this woman not function like a normal human at all? 

“The Valkyrie Swift Response suit.” Angela corrected, wrapping her arms around herself. Just being in this… living space made her nearly sick. She may have been humiliated here for all she knew last time she was drunk. Somehow, even now that felt false. She shook her head afterward to get refocused. “We aren’t here to discuss my suit.” 

Her counterpart across the room merely nodded, leaning against her counter and taking a sip from the mug. “I don’t play childish games, Ziegler. Just because you’re questioning doesn’t mean you’re exempt.” Moira stated plainly. “You either want me to fuck you, or you don’t.” 

Angela huffed as she found herself a spot on the couch, just so she didn’t have to immediately look at her. “You don’t need to be so crude.” She responded softly. “Don’t you date?” 

“No.” Moira’s answer was rather firm. “I haven’t the time.” 

That would answer a lot of things, and if she was going to be honest with herself, it hurt, just a little. “You only have sex with people.” It wasn’t exactly a question, but a statement she was speaking into existence. Perhaps if they did just have sex, Angela could pretend none of this existed. She could get it all out of her system in one go, and never have to look at Moira like this again. The dreams would stop, and maybe Angela could go longer than a few weeks without having some interior breakdown. “Alright.” 

At first, Angela took the silence as contemplation. When it had gone on for just a touch too long, she turned her head to look at her. Moira was still present on the counter, this time her eyes just that little adjusted, slightly wider, and there was the slightest dust of pink on her face. “Alright? Just alright?” Moira questioned, putting her mug down. She started making her way over to Angela, she had to turn away to try and prevent any unnecessary anxiety or worry from rising. She even shut her eyes, leaving her completely in the dark. Until Moira had grasped her chin and forced her face up. “All the avoidance and fighting these months, just for an ‘alright’?” 

Angela let her eyes open, finding Moira’s face so close, but so far for her. She could see the faint freckles this close, dusted over pale skin and lost amongst a blush. So faint, she hadn’t noticed them before. She had to find her voice and her breath before responding. “Are you telling me I’m supposed to respond differently?” 

Moira had very faintly growled, her fingers pinching her chin just that much harder. “You are the most difficult, insufferable, erratic human being I’ve ever met, Angela Ziegler. And I especially hate how that is the most attractive part about you.” 

“What-” Angela was cut off. How that seemed to be a trend of theirs. Their lips melded together in an almost vicious clash. Given the current confines they were now in, Angela didn’t hold back anything she might have felt, shutting her eyes and giving in. 

She moaned softly against Moira’s lips, able to feel how oddly soft they were, as well as taste the bitter, _decaf_ coffee she had made moments before her arrival. Her arms made their way around Moira’s neck, locking in place and keeping her counterpart stuck there, indulging her in that long kiss. It may have only been the third or fourth time, but she was starting to feel like she was getting the hang of it. If that was even possible. 

Moira had surprised her next, wrapping both of her arms around her, one around her back and the other around one of her legs. They were almost flush, despite how low the couch was. Angela let out a soft whine in need. She didn’t even know what it was that she needed, but she hoped the noise alone was enough to convey _something_. 

Before long, her lips were absent, and she let out another huff of disappointment. 

“I can’t very well carry you.” Moira made the obvious point. “Up, Ziegler.” 

“You didn’t even try,” Angela responded, standing anyway and pushing a little into Moira. It dawned on her slowly just what she had gotten herself into. Her face erupted in a hot flush, keeping her eyes to the ground as she made her way towards Moira’s room. She hadn’t a clue on how this was supposed to go, or what she was meant to do. As selfish as it seemed, she was hoping Moira would be able to teach her, or at least just give enough of an example that Angela could figure it out over time. 

She barely stepped foot into the bedroom before Moira was on top of her again, bent and kissing her, rougher. There was much more clear intent behind this kiss, and she felt her entire body burn. It was something she’d felt so often in her dreams… but to feel it in person? Damn near indescribable. 

Moira guided her carefully backward until she had fallen on top of the bed on her back. A small yelp of a whine escaped her, both at the fall and at the loss of warm lips on hers. She could feel her heart beating against her ribs, absolutely apprehensive about what was going to happen. And it was going to happen, Angela wasn’t about to back out. If she got this over with, everything could stop. She could focus. 

A gasp left her mouth as she not only felt Moira’s weight come to the bed, but her lips found a new source of something to attend to, to kiss. Angela bit her lip and lightly whimpered as Moira assaulted her neck, peppering in kisses, her hands trailing down her chest, over her breast and down her middle. It was all she had in her to not cry out something obscure or to make some sign that she was terrified. Her entire body was tense, and before long Moira knew it too. 

“Relax, Ziegler.” Her voice was low and breathy in her ear. “This won’t be any fun if you don't relax.” 

Angela wrapped her arms around Moira’s body, to keep her close, to not even dare let her go. That burning sensation was starting to feel good, and god forbid if she let Moira stop it now. “I’m… trying.” She managed to say, before squeaking out. Moira had found the hem of her shirt, and her hands were fucking cold. “First, remember?” 

She could very easily here the small ‘tsk’ of a noise that Moira had made, but that didn’t seem to stop her advances. At least, not with her hand. It still ran up her shirt, its goal clear in mind, and Angela felt herself shake. 

Moira moved to ease that worry, pressing another long kiss to Angela’s lips. This time, she had dragged her tongue along Angela’s bottom lip, and she did very little to stop the advance, lest Moira got too frustrated to continue. She parted her lips, and Moira had taken the liberty to nip, tugging with her teeth. The act, despite it not being that rough, was enough for Angela to let out a small noise. 

Her fingers dug at Moira’s shirt, she desperately wished she could do something, anything to elicit this sort of reaction out of Moira too. One hand moved to tangle itself in red hair, rapidly beginning to dishevel at their actions, the remaining gel only a small deterrence in her goal; keeping Moira right there, just for now. 

Eventually, Moira had pulled away, sitting up and dragging Angela with her. She had made a squeak of surprise, even further as Moira pulled away her shirt.

Angela let go, instinct kicking into no longer hold Moira, but to cover herself in her embarrassment. She shut her eyes, crossing her arms across her chest and almost recoiling. Locker rooms and the equipment set up were different things. There, everyone was focused on themselves, including Angela herself. But Moira had more intent. Her shirt wasn’t going to be the only thing coming off tonight. 

Instead of prying hands trying to force her arms away, Angela felt a touch elsewhere. She opened her eyes to see Moira’s lay elsewhere. Her side. The remainder of the wound she had suffered on one of her first missions… If Angela thought too hard on it, she could remember the explosion and the panic that ran through her very veins as she tried to save herself. She stared at Moira’s face, wondering, contemplating what could be going on inside her head of all things. This was a battle wound… surely she didn’t have that much fascination with it. “Why… are you staring…?” Angela asked quietly, almost afraid to break the spell. 

“You’re a reckless idiot…” Moira had said, thumbing the scarred skin. Angela could still see some of the glittering flecks in the wound, something that embarrassed her to no end. “But your science… your advancements are astounding. They also are why I find you so attractive.” 

Angela snorted a little bit of a laugh, leaning forward to try and hide her face, hide her shame. “Funny you mention it now.” She mumbled, but sure Moira could still hear her. “You always seem so critical when you look over my shoulder.” 

Moira hummed, her hand trailing away from the scar now, Angela’s entire being felt tense and she tried to calm down enough. She needed to. Moira’s hand moved, up to her shoulder and down to Angela’s arm, forcing her to let go of her current hold for just a moment. There, Angela could feel Moira running her thumb up her forearm, along where she had cut. Tested. She nearly failed in ner endeavors, and the mere memory of it had Angela beginning to shake. “You wouldn’t have pushed yourself so far had I not been critical with you, _Aingeal_” 

The nickname made her gasp, but she was far too flustered to even begin to guess what Moira had said. Instead, lips returned to her neck, this time with a vicious bite. As Moira kissed and nipped at her skin, Angela clung around her again, biting back whines that made her sound almost too needy. She craned her neck, allowing Moira greater access and more area to cover, ignoring how she felt almost laid out like a novel for her to read. Then again, in this situation, who wouldn’t be? 

She felt the pressure release itself around her chest, and she nearly yelled out in surprise. Her bra had been undone, and it started slipping off her shoulders. Moira wasn’t wasting any time for her, was she? 

She took the liberty to pull it off herself, glancing briefly at Moira’s still done shirt. She was fully dressed. That wasn’t quite fair. After getting her bra to the side, Angela started working on Moira’s shirt as a way to avoid the embarrassment, the blush she had across her face and surely across her shoulders by this point. It was embarrassing, revealing, and overall something new and it was terrifying. Even as she focused on each button, and quickly, Moira had made a small laugh. She helped before long, shrugging off her shirt for Angela’s sake, and tossing it to some unknown corner. “Eager now, are we? I thought you were new to this.” Moira had lightly teased. 

Angela bit her lip to keep her focus, staring now at Moira’s front and trying to think. Trying to process. A simple bralette was the only thing in the way of them being equal, and she had started just a few moments too long. Moira was kind enough to remove the garment for her, there was no hesitation or embarrassment behind the action either. Simple methodology. Angela had to remind herself again, the sooner they got this over with, the sooner she could go back to normal. 

Moira captured her lips again, pushing her back down onto the bed. Her tongue teased over Angela’s lips and she let out another soft moan. This time, Moira very lightly vocalized with her. 

Her hips were straddled before long, and she could very much feel Moira’s hips keeping her down, and for the first time since they had come into this room, Angela realized how warm and uncomfortable her jeans had been. As well as just how much she wanted them off. 

That thought was briefly disrupted by chill hands finding her skin again. This time, over her breast and squeezing. Angela let out a much more significant moan, pulling away from Moira and arching her back just to do so. She felt Moira take advantage almost immediately, back to kissing at her neck and trailing down as her hands teased and massaged her chest. 

Angela kept her eyes closed, doing nothing but trying to revel in the feeling. As much as she wanted to pretend this was someone else, she couldn’t. She had wanted, _craved_ Moira for the past few months, how could she have just ignored this for so long? Why was it such a fight… She pushed her chest up further as a new sensation drew her attention. That felt like Moira’s lips… around her nipple. 

She was very glad they had decided to come to Moira’s room now if this was how their conversation was going to turn. 

Angela held nothing back, hands moving to find purchase in Moira’s hair, pulling her and keeping her close as she sucked and licked, driving Angela just a little crazy laying flat as she did. Her hips rolled up out of pure instinct, soft moans dripping from her lips. Everything felt like fire and Angela wanted more of it. 

Before long, her hips were met with Moira’s own much more forceful, intentional thrusts, keeping her stuck there and making her moan more from the pressure. Even with her shirt off, Angela already felt too hot. “M… Moira!” She found herself crying, nearly begging. Her mouth felt good on her breast, but Angela let her mind wander for just a moment, where it would feel elsewhere… 

The hand that had previously been attending to her finally found its way at Angela’s hips, and she shuddered in anticipation for what would be coming next. Moira had moved her hips, finding a different way to lay so that her hand could tease the hem of her jeans, toying with the button. She let out another struggled whine as Moira appeared to be teasing her, ever so slightly. It didn’t last for that much longer. 

Moira slipped her hand below her jeans, the new feeling making Angela squeeze her fists tighter in her hair, another whiny moan leaving her lips. That's when she could feel slender fingers gently pet at her most sensitive place and felt how her underwear gave way under said touch. 

Before Angela could protest more, Moira had moved back to her neck, leaving one kiss before tugging at her earlobe, lightly chuckling. “Doesn’t this feel nice? It could have been sooner…” She lightly cooed, continuing to just lightly poke and feel. It made Angela’s hips squirm under her hand. 

“Moira! Please…” Angela whined, her hands shaking as she felt compelled to beg. To demand what she needed. “Don't… don't tease. Please. I need this.” 

Another kiss, sloppy and needy. Angela reciprocated the licks this time, turning it into a full french kiss. She was clueless about what she was doing, but everything had felt so good so far, she couldn’t be long. The kiss distracted her just enough before Moira had started to unbutton her jeans, and she let out another soft noise of surprise. 

Moira pulled away, a small trail being the only thing connecting their hungry lips at that point. She slipped down, and pulled away both Angela’s jeans and her panties with a swift tug, leaving her practically naked on the bed. With her core being exposed to the air, Angela shivered and looked up. Moira was hovering, apparently taking a good look over her entire form. Angela felt like she would combust at any time, like a phoenix. How wonderful that would be if she could get out of this situation faster by doing so. 

“**Beautiful…**” Angela heard the word, but gods did she understand what it meant? Of course not. But she would be foolish if she didn’t admit, that was one of the most attractive things she’d ever heard Moira say in her native language. “Even with your experimental scars, you’re practically perfect…” Moira said it low, quiet under her breath, but Angela picked it up. 

Suddenly, lips were on her neck again, and Angela was forced to cling tightly to Moira’s neck, keeping her there while her hips quivering. The pain of the bite she was starting to leave on her neck was enough to distract her, just for a moment, from the hand slipping between her legs yet again. As well as the finger teasing her soaked slit. Angela didn’t get time to react as fingers soon found their way to that most sensitive piece. All she did was let out a strangled gasp and a long-winded moan. “**Fuck!**” 

Moira’s fingers circled her clit at a steady tempo, allowing Angela to gather the mush that was her thoughts to be able to form anything of coherency. “Moira…! Don’t stop, please…!” She begged, clinging tighter. She wanted this feeling to stay, it was amazing…! Far better than anything her dreams could produce. Another person touching her like _this_, she never thought it would feel so good. The whole ordeal was something else entirely, she had never thought about what it would be like. What another person could do… 

Angela fully intended on showing her appreciation as much as she could, openly moaning for Moira’s touch and attention, rolling her hips for that much more friction. Moira met it with harder, quicker strokes, and joined their lips to keep some sort of control. The feeling was bliss to Angela. Everything she had been wanting, craving the past few months came about in one simple touch, one simple moment… 

It was her turn. She had nipped Moira’s lip in simple want, somehow managing the control to do so. Her hands ran themselves up Moira’s back, finding a place to cling to her on. As her pleasure built, Angela merely dug her fingers harder, nails leaving indents in the skin. Her body was winding up, and quickly. She had only let herself fall to this a few times, fucking herself on her hand in the dead of night when she couldn’t think and her dreams had woken her. She should have just accepted her fate then. 

Moira had a hand on her abdomen as well, rubbing circles with her thumb, the feeling almost as numbing as the fucking she was currently receiving on her clit. Once Moira's lips left her own in favor of going back to her neck, she whimpered something not even she understood. 

“Let me hear, Aingeal.” Moira had cooed in her ear once, again. “I can feel you, nearly on the edge, Let me hear just how much you needed this.” 

Her voice was low and oh so attractive. The words were compelling enough on their own, and after her body had spent so long tightening and winding, it was as if something had snapped. Angela’s back arched as she cried out _loudly_ with her release. Nothing else mattered now, but the feeling of Moira’s fingers, her voice so close to her ear, throwing her into new sensations she never thought possible. 

Angela’s moans tapered to a struggling cry, slowly as her high came down and she could feel other things again. Moira’s spare hand had stopped, and the one currently soaked with Angela’s fluids was withdrawn. Angela slumped almost completely into the bed, trying to catch her breath. 

That felt amazing… the rush was even better than diving from the cliff. 

There was no way that Angela could leave. Not like this. 

“You must be exhausted.” It almost sounded like a caring tone, even as Moira shifted about. “... Cliff jumping and coming to terms with your attraction must be draining, is it, Ziegler?” 

Angela managed to push herself up, finding her vision working much better for her now. She blinked to get it clear, to find Moira sitting by her side, staring at her with almost longing. It was a much different expression than she was used to. Her arms already felt far too unsteady and weak to continue to hold herself there. “What… about you?” Angela finally managed to speak back, looking her up and down. Surely, Moira wanted something in return? 

“I can wait,” Moira responded. “After your rest, and we actually talk about all of this.”

Angela blinked, thinking for a moment or two before she had started to laugh. “I suppose… this wasn’t much of a conversation, was it?” 

“No. It certainly wasn’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I'm bad with smut, but I think this turned out preeeety alright. Also, this chapter is the chapter that broke 200 pages on my google doc, so hurry for that! I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter. Remember, Suggestions and Comments are always welcome <3


	30. Groundbreaking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela repays Moira for her crash-course in pleasure, among other things. It doesn't end how Angela had nearly hoped, however.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise Surprise, Tig did not one chapter, but two chapters with smut. Yall are welcome. Just kidding but, I'm glad you guys are enjoying the fic and finding humor in it. Really. I appreciate all the comments you guys have shown me the last few days <3 I'm glad I can help brighten some of yalls day. 
> 
> Enjoy!

If Angela could give Moira anything, it was her pleasant taste in comfort wear. This robe was something else. 

They had moved, saying little else as Angela sat on the couch, nursing a cup of the (disgusting) decaf that Moira had brewed once more. While she relaxed in a soft lavender colored robe, almost too long for her to be that comfortable, Moira had merely thrown her button-up back on, but without putting it together. She hadn't noticed on the day of the Halloween party, but Moira's freckles extended much farther past her cheeks. A few of them dusted her chest, particularly over her shoulders, which she had only caught a passing glance. And, if she was right, perhaps she caught a glimpse of what may have truly laid below Moira's belt… that might've just been her imagination though. 

Moira came with her mug before long, sitting in a lounger while Angela kept her previous place on the couch. For the moment, both of them seemed to only be staring longingly at their mugs, lost in the moment and not exactly sure what to say. How cocky and overconfident they had both been, in different ways, before making their way to the bedroom. If Angela was going to be honest, this wasn't how she had imagined her first time at all. 

The silence was becoming more uneasy, heavier as their topic was laid before them in bold. Angela found herself more than unconsciously looking at the open valley Moira had left with her shirt unbuttoned, and sipped her mug to try and distract from her stare. "I've just fucked you, Ziegler. You need not be so shy as you stare." Moira said, though not with her usual sting or bite. 

Angela averted her eyes, a warm blush seating over her face afterward. "Sorry…" she responded quietly, putting her mug to her lap. 

Moira had sighed, leaning further back into her chair. "You truly are a complex human being." Moira said plainly, sipping her own for a moment before speaking again. "Why now, after so long of resisting, did you decide to allow us to become intimate? Especially considering your previous confusion on the matter." 

That almost had Angela gag on her own breath, but she saved face. "I thought that. Perhaps if we got this over with, we could stop thinking about it. And the dreams would stop." Angela explained, hoping that in itself was enough of an answer. 

The look that adorned Moira's face, however, told her it was not. "Dreams? What are you on about." She asked, clearly more intrigued than anything. With her one brow perched so high, eyes in focus… Angela realized she had seen this expression numerous times… was she really keeping track of all these things now? The only difference is instead of it being used towards work, it was being used directly at Angela's face. 

"Well…" Angela's hands gripped her mug that much tighter. "I have been having dreams of… you. Us. Together. Inappropriate dreams. I was thinking that, perhaps, if we were to come together, it could go away. Ignoring them wasn't doing anything, and I had clearly purposefully kissed you in the field, so…" As Angela rambled, her face only grew darker. It was embarrassing admitting this to Moira, but hopefully, it would get her to understand. Perhaps she would very well know how to get rid of these dreams by means other than just acting on them. 

Even if Angela wanted to feel like that again and again. The pleasure. The pure electricity running up her spine. And especially the way Moira had coaxed it all out of her, playing her body nearly like a finely tuned instrument. 

But there was no way she wanted Moira to know all of that. Besides, she said she only fucked, she would never date anyone. That seemed to be a hard line and Angela was not about to convince her to cross it. 

"Explicit dreams of us. How curious." Moira's words brought her out of her thoughts, and that blush only burned hotter. "In my experience, dreams like that are messages of longing. They do not tend to go away until you act on them. So, at least you have that covered. I trust I won't have you pounding on my door at a later date for round two then?" She mused. 

Angela merely snorted at the idea, or she tried to. "Please. I would sooner prefer a debate over the applications of your genetic adaptation project than have this night over." She was so defensive, why was she so damn defensive? Being a hard-ass never got her any winning lead regarding Moira. Why would it now? 

Moira merely rolled her eyes. "I know for a fact you enjoyed yourself. Don't sound so offended." She took another sip of her mug before getting that oh so evil smirk that Angela almost dreaded. "Or, need I remind you of how fun it was, Aingeal?" 

The chill that ran down her spine flashed in an instant. She had to bury her face into her mug to avoid vocalizing anything. That nickname. That way she said it, how delightfully low her voice was. It was so damn good. Quickly, an idea wormed its way into her brain despite the absurdity of it. But she'd wait for now. She had to. They weren't done with their conversation. And she had promised Moira they would finish it. Properly. She cleared her throat to try and gather her bearings. "Need I remind you, we are supposed to be having a civil discussion." Angela pointed out. "Not trying to wind up back in your bedroom just yet." 

It appeared that Moira gave it a moment of careful thought before nodding. "Of course. Your banter just comes so easily." Moira responded. "I've already told you I don't date. Especially those new to the option. As fun as it is to toy with you, I have no intention of repeating tonight. When you leave, this ends." She said. 

That was some form of relief for sure. "I can agree with that," Angela said. "Not another word of this, or our stumbles, after I leave. At all?" She made sure for it to be completely clear. 

"Not a soul will know." Moira said with a nod.

Angela nodded and put her mug down. She could immediately see Moira's expression turn quite curious. How interesting the awestruck look fits her face so well. "Then I suppose you should have some courtesy and set me up proper for the next woman to have me." She declared, almost a bit prideful. She wore a smile on her face, pushing through the embarrassment and inexperience. Angela always returned her favors, and this would not be an exception. "Unless you don't like people touching you, of course." 

Seeing the flush as dark as it was on Moira's pale complexion was almost a compliment. "I'm not saying anything," Moira stated. "You're going to have to figure it out reading my body language. That should be something you're skilled in." She too moved to set her mug down, allowing her full attention to be on Angela and just what she intended to do. 

Angela briefly grabbed a throw pillow from the couch, before tossing it to Moira's feet. That would come in handy for later. For now, she leaned forward, getting onto the chair and sitting rather snugly in Moira's lap, wasting little time in pressing another deep kiss to her lips. As her eyes fluttered closed, she tried to summon more confidence, more intention. She was going to perform and stun Moira O'Deorain to silence. She had to. 

Hands made their way to Moira's open shirt, pushing it off the sides. Angela's hands covered both breasts, getting a feeling for them, for Moira. She felt her body grow tense under her touch, and the softest grunt of a moan left Moira's lips to tickle Angela's. She pressed the kiss in deeper, her hips rolling a gentle rhythm as she found some sort of tempo. Her hands slid, toying with Moira's nipples with her thumbs and rolling them around. It was amusing how stiff they seemed to be, just from a mere kiss alone. Then again, the memory of the bedroom wasn't too far off either. Every movement elicited more soft noises from Moira. Not nearly as loud as Angela had been earlier, but her making noise was positive. This was good. 

Angela enjoyed having the power for a moment. 

She slipped down, sliding off of Moira's lap and trailing her hands downward. Down her smooth stomach, to her pants and her belt. Angela had long since been curious about what lay under, how it would look. Her lips moved, sliding down to Moira's neck and settling there, littering kisses over every single freckle she could think to spot. As she moved, she could hear her moans now, low and subtle, like a delicious little rumble. The sound fitted her. She would never take Moira to yell or scream in any capacity anyway. 

Her hands slipped the belt undone, and with a few tugs to encourage Moira's hips up, her entire bottom half was bare. Angela managed to pull her attention from Moira's neck and shoulders to bask in the glory she had finally obtained. Trimmed, but just as vibrant red as her hair. The mere appearance had her in a deep-seated blush, one hand rubbing where her thigh and hip connected. 

True to her word, Moira had said nothing, but her noises had stopped. Instead, Angela looked up and found her staring right at her. For once, it wasn't with malice or hatred or god forbid some mightier feeling that left Moira feeling higher than Angela. No. A look of expectation, of longing. Moira wanted this just as much as Angela wanted to give it. 

Really, would repeating all of this be that bad? 

Angela moved kisses down Moira's body, over her breasts, her stomach, her hips, and then to her inner thighs. She wasn't the best educated on the build-up and judging from the scent that made her nearly dizzy, Moira didn't need it as she had anyway. She didn't have a clue on what she was doing either, but she was damn well going to figure it out. She used both of her hands to spread Moira's lower lips, allowing her better access to what lay before her. A prize she was going to eagerly claim. Moira would come and she'd hear those cries any time Moira wanted to pretend to argue. Any time they'd bicker. Angela would remember this moment as personal blackmail for no one other than herself to enjoy. 

Finally leaning forward, Angela gave one long flat lick to the entirety of Moira's soaking slit. The action earned her a mildly pitched gasp, quickly setting her in her mission. She tasted bitter, but not in a disgusting sense. Almost like coffee…Or her liquor. Regardless, Angela found herself almost incapable of getting enough. She repeated the same action, each time her tongue dipping deeper and farther into Moira, her very essence covering her lips. It was something she could get used to doing. If they hadn't just agreed to drop it all as if it hadn't happened. 

Moira's moans persisted, low and needy. Eventually, slender hands found their way into Angela's messy ponytail, gripping at her hair and forcing her just a tad closer. She choked, just for a moment, before she made more space to continue her work. Through her licks, she found a particular spot. Moira's clit, it had to be. The small nub was prominent after all the attention to her body, practically begging for attention from Angela's mouth. And she would give it. 

She was nearly relentless with her pressure and pace, licking as she could while Moira continued to hold her. The grip at her hair hurt, but if the noises were any indication to go with it, it was a good thing. Angela changed her arms, looping them under Moira's legs, keeping her almost anchored as her tongue continued its work. Before too much longer, she heard a new noise, low pitched stuttering of breath, and Moira's body trembled under her hands and tongue. 

"Angela…" 

It was such a drawn-out moan, strangled to keep low and quiet, despite the fact she was having Angela scream in pleasure not that long ago. Regardless of the noise, Angela took it as a victory, her strokes getting slower until she finally pulled away, leaving a kiss to her clit as she went. Angela took a moment, savoring the sight of Moira back in the chair, chest heaving, completely exposed for her. Vulnerable. An entirely different state. The fact that Angela got her to this state, the rush of joy rivaled even her greatest discoveries before coming to Overwatch. 

Moira took just a small moment to recover, taking in air and sitting up proper, looking at Angela with an expression Angela could only really describe as amazement. "You never cease to pull tricks out of your sleeves, do you, Ziegler?" 

Angela snorted a little bit of a laugh, unraveling herself from Moira's body and sitting back. "I'll admit. I wound up researching in my attempt to find an answer for my confusion online." She responded, only slightly embarrassed to admit it, but smiled something devious after. "I do believe that's what you meant by eating me, isn't it?"

It appeared for once in her life that she was stunned to silence, Moira softly blinking and just staring. It all made Angela laugh that much harder. For once, Angela felt like she wasn't completely undermined. It felt good. 

Moira cleared her throat before long, trying to regain some of her composure. "Again. Very erratic. I don't understand how you can be so unpredictable." She muttered. 

Angela eventually ceased her laughter, finally managing to stand up and hold her robe closer to her body. "Well, at least it's settled evenly," Angela responded, glancing only briefly to the bedroom door before looking at Moira. "So this is it. This is all there will ever be. Right?" She inquired.

Even if she's the one who said it, she silently hoped Moira would have a different opinion. To change her mind on her outlook. It was hard to get out of the base and everyone already thought they were dating, or at least fucking, anyway. Would another, more optimal time be so unreasonable?

To her disappointment, Moira had nodded, standing to grab her mug and move back to the kitchen. "This is it. I told you, I don't date." Moira confirmed. “No exceptions.”

She nodded, even if it hurt. "I…I'm going to grab my clothes and, um, go," Angela said softly, keeping her gaze low. 

"I'm glad you've defied my expectations this time," Moira said plainly. "I figured you'd be the type to lay and cuddle after." 

This time, Angela allowed herself to fall to the childish aspect if only to cover her slight hurt. Even the hurt in itself was confusing. She wasn’t partial to Moira hours ago or so she thought, and now she craved this intimacy that she felt like she only got a taste of. "You're too sharp and pointy. Like a porcupine." Angela responded, saying nothing more before retreating to Moira's room. She would dress long enough to get to her bunk and shower. As much as she enjoyed the afterglow, it was getting sticky and mildly uncomfortable.

Besides, if Moira didn’t want to make any more of this, neither did she. That was the only appropriate thing to do, right? 

\--- ---

"Congratulations on your first official test flight, Angela." Ana had welcomed her in the mess hall that next morning, passing by and giving her a firm pat to the shoulder. She was oddly cheery, despite the early morning hour, though Angela could never quite recall a time where she saw the Captain any less than content and inviting. 

At the mention of her suit, Angela had merely perched an eyebrow up. "I haven't submitted my report yet, Captain," Angela said rather promptly, wondering how she had even known about it.

Ana merely grinned. "I could see you from Jack's office window. You looked like a beautiful angel, and you soared like a mighty eagle. I'm proud of you.” that tone was softer, not the tone of a Captain to a worldwide military organization, but of a mother. Angela learned that by now, seeing how often she was on the receiving end of Ana’s motherly care. A frown seemed to suddenly fall over Ana's face. "Is something wrong, Angela?" She suddenly asked.

She shook her head. "No, nothing Captain. A weight has been lifted from my shoulders, that's all." Angela responded, almost making up a smile. "Fabrications are nearly done for the suit. I'll have the finalized armor plates and aerodynamics finished within two weeks. Then the suit will be ready for battle." 

For the longest moment, Angela thought that Ana could see right through her, even though she was telling the truth. A look donned on Ana's face before long, almost like a sudden realization. "Nothing like a near-death realization to ground you, is that it?" Ana asked. 

Angela had to contemplate before nodding. "Yes, I thought to give my suit two tests at once was appropriate. I jumped from the cliffside before I piloted the suit." Angela said. There was no shame in admitting it, and besides, someone else besides Moira must have seen her leap to her near death. 

She tried not letting her hand clench around her mug too much at the thought of Moira. No, that would be dealt with later, be if she liked it or not. 

It seemed all this satisfied Ana for the time being and she nodded, gifting another pat to Angela's shoulder before taking her leave. It allowed Angela just the smallest space to breathe. 

Yes, testing her suit and practically jumping to her death was a new experience, and it had cleared her head in many ways… after all, if she hadn't jumped, flown around the base in her suit, she wouldn't have had such a raw unbridled range of feeling. She wouldn't have kissed Moira. And she most certainly wouldn't have spent her evening learning new things about herself, about Moira, and settling long unchecked and disturbed emotions. 

She wouldn't have done any of those things the day before, but she also wouldn't have wanted Moira like this, either. 

For a small moment, Angela wished she had alcohol to dump into her coffee or had a spare cigarette to go out with. Feelings were agony. How her coworkers in the hospital managed to hold some stable relationships, she would never have known.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fear not, in case you were wondering, this story is nowhere near its end. For those of you curious, I intend to pull this fic all the way to at least in between the events of Uprising and Storm Rising. And for those of you who haven't read the previous chapters in a few months, we've barely covered a year since Angela's joined Overwatch. She's 23 now, and I believe she was 29 during Retribution. 
> 
> Anyway, comments and concerns are very welcome. As well as suggestions. I've already had a few of you who actually know German help me out with a few snippets as far as Angela and Reinhardt's speech patterns go, so thank you very much for it. I've revised a few previous chapters with what I've been told in mind, though they are quite minor edits. They mean the world to me. I hope you guys have a wonderful day and are surviving the pandemic alright!


	31. Aftershocks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela's suit is finished, and she gets a tad bit of wisdom from Moira regarding her methodology.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not quite as descriptive as I intended to be, but I'm gonna have combat problems for another chapter. So kinda cut in half. I hope you guys enjoy this regardless!

_”Angela…”_

The way that Moira had said her name on the edge of pleasure had plagued Angela’s mind for nearly a week solid. No matter what she did, all her mind would do was wander to the night in Moira’s bedroom, her body being touched for the first time, and of course, making Moira O’Deorain perfectly speechless. 

After then, the lingering thoughts only came in every once in a short while, if she was left to think for too long. There was a moment she was so caught up in the memory, she had pricked herself with a needle in sewing pieces of her suit together. 

Of course, the wound mended a few minutes later, a fun thing to place in her note for later, but not nearly a solid thought enough to make her stop thinking about that night. Or the noises they both had made. How their bodies felt together. 

Angela lit a fire in herself without meaning to, but it was easy enough ignored as she snipped the thread and pulled back, admiring her work. 

The Swift Response suit was just about complete, the skirt-like excess would do well for deflecting wind and being the first layer to prevent bullets. The front piece of it, almost in shape of a loincloth, held the icons that would identify her as a medic, beyond the red sash on the left arm of the suit. She had constructed leg braces, meant to cover the exterior of her legs through flight as well as against laser and bullet fire. Polished red shoes, fit for battle, were settled at the bottom of the stand. The suit itself looked relatively complete, it was only missing one thing as far as Angela was concerned. 

She turned, staring at the white forearm bracers that she had fabricated and built to be with the suit. One was technically made to help house the gauntlet that would control Angela’s flight. What she would tell others, is that the matching half made it so she wasn’t too off-balance. 

In reality, she had something else entirely in mind. 

There were plug-ins for vials, more specifically, vials of nanites. Angela had momentarily upgraded the system of her wings, the gauntlet specifically, to monitor her heart rate and blood pressure. While she wore the entire suit, the two bracers specifically, they would keep track of her vitals. If they had dipped to levels associated with pain or damage, the bracers were programmed to inject the vials directly to Angela’s body. If they didn’t do it via automatically taking her vitals, there were small buttons that would inject them anyway. That way, Angela didn’t have to worry about healing herself on the battlefield. 

She had learned very early on, rarely anyone cared for the medic of the team if everyone was taking fire. She would have to watch her own back however she needed it. Technically, it wasn’t so much as unethical as it was just a precaution. Angela was careful, and this suit was designed with the idea in mind that Angela would be able to evade hits. 

But just because that was its intended purpose, doesn’t mean that was what would have happened. 

Looking at everything as a whole, the suit was complete. The only thing was Angela had never tested the entire suit together on her body. She had no idea how tacky it would look when it was put on. Hopefully, it would look just fine, and she would be stressing for no reason. 

The door to the lab opened. Angela had nearly forgotten what time it was, which meant… 

“Finished your suit, Ziegler?” 

At least Angela knew the very fine difference between Moira’s work voice and the voice she had used for mild pleasantries. “Yes, I have.” Angela turned, watching as Moira had moved from the door to her desk. They hadn’t much conversation beyond asking to borrow lab equipment, or just about current projects. That was the most they could do. There was no bickering, it was calm. If Angela had been in this position six months ago, she would have loved the peace. But they both knew they weren’t doing this out of earned gradual respect. 

It was to avoid the fairly obvious elephant in the room. Or at least, that was what Angela thought. 

“What of your project, with the colorblind mice?” Angela decided to ask, moving to put away the sewing kit. 

Moira had made a small gruff of a noise. “Unfortunately, any attempt to correct the mutation has failed. And at this point with the age of the mice I have on hand, it’s merely better to let them be.” Moira responded, not quite irritated, just more inconvenienced. 

Angela had to curiously raise an eyebrow at that. “You mean you’ve had them for three years?” 

“Not me personally.” Moira was quick to respond. Angela turned to watch her move across the lab, pulling small tanks after tanks of mice down. “But they’ve been in my care for a little over a year. I may be driven and use them as my test subjects, but animals deserve to be retired and respected after some amount of time if no results or progress is being made.” She explained. “Or, sooner, depending on what is being done to them. Surely, I don't need to tell you what happens to them?” 

In a way, she felt awful for these mice. That was why she could never perform animal testing for clinical trials, even if it was beneficial. There was no possible way for Angela to be able to willingly take a life, even if it was for the sole purpose to put the poor animal out of its misery. Angela was educated to save lives, not take them. 

She swallowed thickly as she watched Moira load them, one by one, into the larger container. “... What are you going to do to them?” She didn’t mean for her voice to be so small. 

Moira looked between the last one she held in her hands and the whole lot of them below. “Anesthetic. I don’t enjoy their shrill cries as they suffer.” 

Angela looked between the mice and Moira herself, biting her lip. A realization dawned over her, leaving an opaque mystery in front of her. "Why are you so kind to the mice, yet you are so crude to other human beings?" Angela inquired. 

Briefly, Moira paused, flicking a glance up at Angela before returning to her task. "Animals don't have the comprehension to always understand what's going on around them." She started, picking one mouse up and examining it, just a bit. "They run through our mazes, take our baits, our viruses, our serums, but do they know what they're doing it for? Do they really know that their life is all the mazes and the needles, never to live their life outside of their small box? I know there are breeds of mice specifically for this purpose, but surely they don't even know what's going on. I am kind to these creatures because they don't know this is their life. They don't think as we do." She put the small mouse back inside, looking back up at Angela. 

"Humans, on the other hand, know what's going on. They are in full awareness of what they are doing at all times. That is human willpower and consciousness. If a human cannot follow conscience instruction, they very well should have known better." Moira stated plainly, her tone changing to one harsher given the topic at hand. "We make the rules, we break the rules, our social constructs are built on which humans made the rules first and which humans are lucky enough to follow into that succession. We are controlled by no one but ourselves at our very core. I choose to perform genetic research and tests to find anomalies within a creature's chromosomes, I also choose when and when not to show constraint to my research. You choose to advance medicine and improve the quality of life for everyone involved. You also choose to go behind the back of Amari and Morrison and test yourself with your life-saving technology to the point you've got it installed into your braces should you be left for dead. Even you do not fully trust the capacity that is human decision making and hierarchy. If Morrison had the choice between saving your life and abandoning the mission in the process or abandoning you to see a mission completed and a new terrorist cell or omniums destroyed, he would choose the latter." 

Angela wanted to protest, truly. But the first experience she had with the strike team had included them ignoring her condition in favor of bickering if she was a good fit for the team or not instead. 

That was, after all, why she had made her suit to begin with. 

Her silence seemed to satisfy Moira to some capacity before the later continued. "Humans have a very wide range of capacity, Ziegler. It's good that you don't trust them. At the end of the day, the only one you can truly depend on is yourself." She explained before turning her full attention back to the mice. 

She wanted to reach out, to save one of them. Surely one of them could live out the rest of their lives in her room? No matter how much she wanted to, Angela knew better than to ask that. Lab animals bred for the task were not adept at just living a shelf life. There was no point. Moira carried the full bin now to a separate room, thankfully relieving Angela from viewing the process before she turned back to her suit. Surely, she didn't do this because she didn't trust them. No, they had more to be concerned about besides their healer. It was for her benefit and that was it. 

Wasn't it?

Now, as she picked up one of the bracers, examining the detail, the nanites vial slid into that precious slot… Angela doubted herself and her intentions. She trusted her team. But did she know if they were to override the orders Jack gave them? There was a lot to contemplate, the bracer felt heavy in her hands, more-so from her thots than its actual weight. 

At the right moment, her pager at her side went off. Angela knew the particular notification, it was a call to the hangars. They had a mission in twenty minutes, now that she decided to look at the clock. There was no better time than now to test her ensemble. 

\--- ---

Anxiety rushed through her bloodstream, her entire body tense as she walked into the hangars with no more than two minutes to spare. After she had recalled which pieces needed to go where it was easy to fit the suit in place. It felt snug, secure, and most of all, _fast_. Of course, there was no proper way to tell how quickly she'd be able to move until she was out on the field. 

The wings already felt as if they were the same as her pack, and with her staff clutched tightly in her hands, she felt almost like a specialty. A true piece of the team, rather than just a medic. 

Reinhardt, being a head taller than the rest by far, had seen Angela approach first. He beamed the moment he saw her, waving his large armored hand. "Angela! My girl don't you look quite sharp in that outfit!" 

Torbjörn had turned next, glancing to look at Angela and admire the work he'd helped to create. Ana was equally impressed, offering a nod in Angela's general direction. The only one who didn't seem too impressed just yet was Jack. According to Ana, he didn't see her flight test, even if Ana herself had. Something about not paying attention she was told. So far, it appeared he was mildly unimpressed with the getup. "Are you sure you can keep up with us this time, Doctor Ziegler?" He asked, tone quite demure. 

For just a moment, Angela had recalled what Moira had told her. That he would leave her for dead if it would benefit the mission. Angela nodded, clutching her staff tighter. "Yes, Commander. I hand-tested myself. It should keep speed, even with you." She assured, almost guarding herself and her staff with confidence. Should she let it be shattered now, who knew how she'd manage to do through the mission. 

The team boarded up into the ship, Angela coming last as she held up the rear. This time, seeing as the flight was so long, the briefing would be done inside the dropship. It didn't take too long after takeoff before Jack had begun to riddle off the threats they faced and why. Something of a small terrorist cell causing trouble in the Middle East. Angela was listening, soaking in every minute of the thirty-minute long meeting before she had merely slumped in her seat. Her wings flexed out automatically to accommodate her being against something; she noticed prematurely of one small error with the suit she didn't quite account for. 

Her hair. 

Such a silly oversight. Angela had realized suddenly she had foregone a haircut in the past months she'd been with Overwatch, and her usual tight-laced bun was sloppily thrown together in a half-assed ponytail in her rush. She had time to put her suit together, but not her hair. 

Quickly, Angela tried moving about, to get her arms behind her head to do her hair right, before realizing another error. As she tried gripping the hair tie, her wings flared to life, the light emanating from them warm and nearly hostile. Quickly, she put her hands away and bit her lip. If she went out like this, her hair could easily get caught within the fine pieces of her wings. Or worse. 

"Do you need a helping hand, Angela?" 

Angela turned to see Ana, just as mind hearted as always, with a bit of a guilt kick to her. "Yes… it seems I forgot to updo my hair." Angela responded softly, her cheeks flushing in deep-seated embarrassment. It was such a small note to overlook and yet? She had managed it anyway. 

Ana seemed to nod as she moved to come to Angela's aid, pulling her hair free of its confinements to start styling it differently. "Torbjörn says you've got a pretty interesting hand signal system for your suit. Otherwise, I'm sure you could fix this yourself " Ana lightly teased her. Even then, she still felt it hit her in the pit of her stomach. It wasn't a jab, but it sure felt like it. 

"J… Yes. It's complicated." Angela managed to catch herself for once. It was seldom that she could, but it did well to make her ‘fit in’ with her coworkers in the Medical Bay. “Finger movements cause certain functions, at least for now. I have already been planning ways to upgrade the systems to where I one day will not need to use hand signals.” Angela explained. 

Humming along, Ana already started to pull and rearrange Angela’s hair. Despite the slight yank, Angela not once felt to cry out in pain. It almost felt therapeutic, in a way, to have her hair done by someone else. Before long, she could feel her hair tied up into a high bun, away from her wings, and away from any threat of battle. “You know, I’ve gotten quite skilled at cutting hair. Perhaps you’d like me to trim it for you later on?” Ana suggested. 

That certainly captured Angela’s interest. “Would cutting it short really help, though?” Angela asked curiously. 

“Well,” Ana trailed slightly, moving to sit in front of Angela rather than stay behind her. “It wouldn’t get caught up in your wings, and you wouldn’t have to put it up nearly as far. Don’t you think? Perhaps just under your chin, what do you think?” 

It was an interesting concept. “... I haven’t had my hair that short in a long time.” Angela said softly. “I think… Perhaps the last time was when Reinhardt had found me in the rubble.” 

Ana nodded along. “It is only just a suggestion, but I think it would suit you.” She said, that smile a little more than knowing at that point. 

Angela relaxed, contemplating it for a moment, before deciding to agree. Any work she didn’t have to do herself was, in a certain way, welcome. Even if it was her hair. Besides, it wasn’t like she was trying to impress anyone. 

… Right? 

“I would love your help, Ana,” Angela responded before long, nodding to the suggestion. “Perhaps… after the mission? If there's no extra work afterward, that is.” 

She chuckled at the slight jab of a joke before nodding. “That sounds like a plan, Angela. I trust you remember the way to my bunk?” Ana asked. 

Another nod. That would suffice. Having something solid to do that wouldn’t require her to go straight back to the lab or her room was welcome. Any distraction was welcome. So long as the distraction wasn’t in the form of her name on a certain coworker's lips. 

But, of course, that was all Angela could focus on during the flight after Ana had left her company. Moira’s voice, calling in her ear, oh so lovingly. She was almost upset that she would never get to see that side of her again. Moira didn’t date; she made that clear. The vague daydreams filled Angela’s heart and soul with a kind of desperation that she couldn’t sate here. Not now. Especially with how long it had taken for her to get into the suit to begin with… 

Before she knew it, the dropship shuttered as it descended and her heart swelled in her throat for another reason. The anxiety that came through with the desire to impress her current contractors was rampant. As well was the doubt Moira had instilled in her earlier in the day. 

“Ziegler!” That rough call from Morrison’s mouth was enough to finally rally her to her feet, clutching her staff with a death vice that made her wings shutter from the flexing input. 

“Coming, Commander!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In short, Animals don't know shit, Humans know all the shit, Moira thinks humans could totally suffer bc in some way they know they deserve fuckery. That's the basic word vomit version of what she said. Also just. Why would you be a dick to animals? I'm sorry. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed. I'm gonna roll myself to overwatch and kermit now. Days been long, but I was so close to finishing this, I needed to share. 
> 
> Also, thank you all for those who have commented so far, especially on the smut pieces, those were the ones I had the most doubt for. So thank you all, I'm glad it did well to come off just as I was hoping it all to. Comments and Suggestions are still VERY much welcome, I appreciate all the feedback and support.


	32. Angel Take Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela barely gets use out of her suit in this mission, feeling worse for wear once it's over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking a tad longer than I meant to. I really wanted to have this out a lot sooner, but some things just can't be helped. I hope you all enjoy!

At first, they were set up for a campout.

Ana had taken the liberty to find a perch. She was a medic, yes, but she was also one of the most skilled snipers in the world. She would play the overseer as the rest of the team readied themselves and talked a plan once more over comms so Ana could hear. It was only instigated further because Ana knew the terrain, as their mission was near the eastern edge of Egypt.

It was supposed to be a tactical assault, overseeing the core location of a human trafficking ring. How they even got information about something this grand scale, yet condensed, Angela didn’t know. Beyond Ana’s knowledge, she didn’t know of any connections; that was perhaps the magic of it. A new caravan was supposed to move out, and soon. That was when they were to make their strike, and secure a few civilians in the process if they could manage it.

Of course, nothing goes to plan if the plan includes sneaking and Reinhardt is involved. Angela had learned that the hard way, making the sign to take her body out of the way to avoid some short spurt gunfire, aimed for Reinhardt’s back in particular. That was just the start of it. Gunfire had rained before long, with the occasional crack of Ana’s sniper rifle. Many more smugglers and soldiers had poured from the primary building than Angela had anticipated, and before long not only was she beginning to use her staff’s reserves, but her nerves were getting shot. They had all figured out that before long there wasn’t even a caravan set to travel, the whole set up appeared a trap.

It didn’t take long before Angela herself had pushed through, activating the Valkyrie function of her suit. She had lost track of Jack and intended to find him one way or another. “Commander!” She tried calling through the comms, despite the rushing of air as she searched for him. “Where are you?” 

Some static came through before a voice started up. “_Angela, get down!_” Ana’s voice was the one she heard in response, rather than Jack’s. “_You’re a bright glowing target, they’re going to shoot at you if you don’t get back to Wilhelm and Lindholm._” 

Angela merely frowned, looking to where she knew Ana’s perch had been, but trying not to fly in the direction lest she also give Ana away. If anything, she moved away from her position. Despite the rushing in her ear, she begged to respond. “But, Captain, what if he-”

“_You let me worry about where Jack is. He's a big boy, he can handle himself._” Ana had responded, stiff annoyance laced in every word. “_We won’t make it out if you’re shot in the air. So get down!_”

As if on a queue, Angela heard another crack of a sniper rifle. This time, she heard something whiz by her ear. She was right, she was a glowing target. She needed to get down before she did wind up shot.

She nosedived, moving to where she could have seen Reinhardt next. He was behind a wall, brandishing his hammer and awaiting something. Upon closer inspection, Torbjörn was repairing his gun; something had sprung and malfunctioned, forcing them both to cover. He looked serious and focused, and with that expression bore across his face, Angela was almost terrified of him. Of course, upon seeing Angela fly down and land next to him, he tried softening up. “Couldn’t find him, eh?” Reinhardt tried to ask, peeking around the corner, only to pull back and avoid fire. 

“No. I couldn’t” Angela frowned, her heart beating a mile a minute. She had lost track of Jack and now they were all split. It made her fear for the worst, her mind doing more thinking than it needed to in the situation. She hated it. The pressure was different when they weren’t all entirely under fire, and there was even worse to try and impress. Angela had already let the think she was dead weight once. Her wings were supposed to help her not be a detriment. But right now, she couldn’t even use them properly. 

Reinhardt seemed to sigh as Torbjörn grumbled from the side. “He always does this, thinking he can be some hero!” He said, putting away a spare wrench. “He just makes things harder when they all know we’re here. His flanks only ever work if we’re in multiple units.” 

She swallowed thickly. “Perhaps a different time for an assault is best? It seems their whole base is pouring out…” Angela tried to raise her voice, but seeing as neither of the men before her had reacted, she could have only assumed they might not have heard her. Why was she shaking so badly…?

“We need to crush them.” Reinhardt proudly proclaimed after a moment, directly proving Angela’s concern correct. “Hammer and gun blazing, Yes?” 

Torbjörn growled and moved to join Reinhardt in his plan, clearly setting out on it be it Angela liked to or not. Without any more notes of hesitation, Reinhardt had rounded the corner again and activated his suit, charging away with Torbjörn running behind him. If there was anything else Angela had learned, it was just how quick he could move despite his stature. A few bullets barely missed Angela again as she quickly realized staying stagnant wasn’t going to help her. Pulling the correct trigger, she had flown behind them, the grip on her staff tighter than she recalled being comfortable. 

It was nearly a disaster. A practical bloodbath, if Angela had to give it any descriptor. Shot bodies and crumpled bots lay scattered everywhere. The smell of the mixed smoke and blood made her want to choke. Angela couldn’t remember the last time the battlefield made her so nauseated. Jack had found them eventually, having taken out a large number of members on his own if the comms had indicated. But at some point, it just fed out like static to her. 

Except for a scream. Ana’s scream over the comm unit. 

It was short, nearly muted, but Angela heard it. Jack had turned his head, but it seemed even he had forgotten where Ana’s sniper perch lay. Angela didn’t. 

Triggering Valkyrie once again, Angela soared through the sky, intending on directly reaching Ana’s perch, despite the protests from the rest of the team. She didn’t think she’d be shot, or caught. Ana was injured. That was all Angela could process.

Midway through her flight, another crack of a rifle startled her and ripped through her shoulder. Angela instantly lost focus, her hand releasing the current sign, and her wings clipping shut. She started free-falling as blood seeped her fresh suit, tears welled in her eyes at the pain. Not only that, but her staff had fallen from her grasp to the ground below, faster than even she was falling. She couldn’t think and was thinking all too quickly at the same time. Barely, just barely, Angela managed the hand sign to signal her wings to slow her descent. It didn’t slow her velocity enough, causing her to tumble into jagged rubble. 

Her suit didn’t tear but the fall still hurt. She slid to a stop on her side, her wings barely avoiding touching the ground. The jolt was enough to disorient her, and if she were so bold, to say she also had a concussion to go with it. In all the commotion, her earpiece had fallen out, only evident by how cool the air felt on her ear. 

Just as quickly as the pain had shot through her entire system, it was soothed. Angela managed to clear her vision enough to look at her bracers. The store of nanites was absent. Gone. Had she just been shot upon her first mission with this suit? 

She sat up slowly. Looking to her side, the wound was already starting to heal thanks to the nanites she had set up beforehand. The wound was still bad, but watching it slowly mend was… a miracle on its own. It caught her attention, distracting her just long enough. When she heard the footsteps, it was nearly too late. Angela scooted back, watching as a dark uniform approached her. Not Overwatch. 

Quickly, Angela drew her sidearm. Her hands shook even as she aimed down, just as Ana had taught her. But she shook. She hesitated. Moments passed in microseconds, her heartbeat in her ears as she watched the agent grow closer. She wanted to squeeze the trigger. Needed to. This was why she had it. To save her own life. No one would come to her aid. Jack and Ana were going to leave her for dead. She hesitated just a moment too long. As another shot rang out Angela shut her eyes in anticipation of the pain. 

But none came. 

Slowly, Angela opened her eyes. The agent that had been charging at her just a moment ago, now lay dead in a pool of his blood, stemming from his head. 

She dropped her gun, shaking almost violently. That shot wasn’t hers. She didn’t shoot him. She didn’t. 

Without the threat of death hanging directly over her head, Angela had curled in on herself, immediately beginning to cry. Her body was wracked with sobs, muffled only by her body’s constriction. She had nearly been shot and killed. Because she couldn’t do it. Angela healed, she wasn’t a killer; she saved lives, she didn’t take them. 

Through her crying, she had lost track of time. Her sobs were slow enough for her to eventually register other things around her. In particular, Reinhardt practically charged at her. “Angela!” His voice was nearly a bellow to her ears. “Are you alright!?” 

She let out a soft sniffle but managed a nod. Once he was by her side, he offered her hand out to her to help her up. Angela found that her legs could barely hold her up, and pulled on the slow descent function to keep her upright. “**You scared the hell out of all of us, Angela. You didn’t get hurt on the way down, did you?**” his eyes were scanning her body and landed at the sight of torn cloth over her shoulder. The blood was evident, this was true. But at least she was in no danger of profusely bleeding out despite her panic. 

Angela shook her head at the question, even with his gaze weighing her down. “**No. I’m so sorry.**” Angela’s voice was shaking. She tried to keep her tone even, but even speaking was making her nearly cry again. Even in German, it hurt. “**I’m so, so sorry. I just wanted to help Ana.**” More tears spilled down her cheeks. As the rest of their team had come up, Angela only felt them fall harder. 

Ana was last, clutching not only a bleeding shoulder but Angela’s staff. “You’re right. Another time would be better.” Her voice was harsh and solid, tossing the staff back to Angela with little care to it. “We’re falling back.”

She barely caught it, watching as Ana moved past them all and towards the dropship, not even stopping for Angela to try and heal her. Somehow, it hurt more than the bullet did, not that Angela could register either at this current moment. Reinhardt had to carefully guide her with his hand towards the dropship. The whole way back, he spent muttering kind and soothing things to her in their own special little way, keeping his kindness hidden from the rest while offering an extra cushion to Angela herself. 

The whole ordeal was draining. Traumatic. And by the time they had all reached the dropship, Angela had collapsed into her seat and fallen asleep. 

\--- --- 

Despite being the last to leave the ship into the mission, Angela ran off the ship first once the doors had opened in the docking bay. She had held her stomach thus far, and couldn’t anymore. Her desire to save face in front of both Captain Amari and Commander Morrison was stronger than her need to empty her stomach of her pathetic excuse of breakfast and en-route energy bar. Not even Reinhardt’s cry out stopped her from making her way to the lockers, and finding relief in the closest empty stall she could reach. 

It was a vicious cycle, the retching made her body ache and the sound echoing off the walls sickened her and made her entire system react harsher. Angela had nearly died today for seemingly nothing and coaxed a harsh reaction from one of the only few people to believe in her here. Surely Ana would take back her placement in the Strike Team. 

Overthinking did little to ease her body, but by now she had nothing left to give. The only thing that Angela could register outside of her body damn near rejecting her entire being was the cold floor. Despite her state, it wasn't even remotely soothing. 

The doors to the locker room opened up, but like hell if Angela was going to pick herself up from the slump. The sound only made her gag once more before she shifted to lean her side against the stall wall. It had only just donned on her that she didn't quite manage to lock the door before she had started throwing up. Not like it mattered. 

Angela forced herself to at least turn around on the floor, looking at who had come in from afar. Much to her upset and surprise, it was Ana, not far from her position with her arm now bandaged up. Of course, healing from Angela's staff but she still recommended keeping the wound covered. How hypocritical of her, seeing as she herself didn't even wrap her own arm. "Are you alright, Angela?" Ana asked, voice calm as could be, but it wasn't the usual soft like tone. 

Eventually, Angela managed a nod in the direction of her superior. "Shaken… I'm sorry." She said, the absolute first thing she's said in English since having been shot. It almost felt unknown to her, despite it being her second language. 

Despite the apology and her shaken state, Ana still shook her head. “Sorry wouldn’t have saved your life had I not been there.” She said. 

“... What?” Angela was a tad dumbfounded, holding herself as she forced her legs to cooperate. The wings made the standing harder, but she had to. “You’re not mad about me trying to fly to you?” 

“About your intentions? No. Of course not, I appreciate you trying to help me.” Ana started, but she didn’t seem pleased. Not in the least. “What I’m disappointed in Angela is you using that suit to fly recklessly towards me, putting yourself in danger, falling to your near death, and most of all being incapable of shooting your sidearm.” 

Angela started to shake at the memory. She very well could have died had Ana not got to him first. “I… I told you, I’m a doctor. I don't hurt people.” her voice was small. Bordering on some insecurity. “I couldn’t, Ana.” 

“I don’t enjoy killing, Angela.” Ana was firm. “Every death brings remorse. I only kill because it is necessary to protect my team, my family. You need to learn that difference, I won't always be around to shoot whoever comes to hurt you. I taught you to use that gun for a reason.” 

She shook her head. “I can’t!” Her voice sounded pathetic, even to herself. “I can’t kill anyone! That isn’t who I am! Bringing me to the Strike Team was a mistake.” Angela had to try and hold back cries. She didn’t want to be spilling tears in front of Ana again. Not over something like this. 

Ana folded her arms, sighing once more and shaking her head. “While I still think you have a place with us, Jack certainly doesn’t seem to think so. So starting tomorrow morning, you’re back on the drills with the rest of the soldiers. Including firearm training. It is an order from not only myself but Jack. He will not allow you to join us again until you are at least on par with most of the rest of them.” Ana explained.

Angela couldn’t fight the orders even if she wanted to. She was at her limit for words, coherent ones anyway. She saluted Ana instead, a non-verbal cue. Even that took more strength than she was capable of using. 

After a decent staredown, Ana turned to leave without saying another word. The very moment the door to the lockers were closed yet again, leaving Angela alone amongst the stalls, she fell to her knees. Choked up sobs wracked through her, even as she tried to cover her mouth to control them. It left a sickening echo through the room, and for that split second she had almost wished that soldier had shot her in the field. Angela wasn’t sure what she was feeling, but she wished she wasn’t feeling it. 

Hollow and empty, swirling with some form of disgust all at once. Angela still felt like she needed to throw up, but she couldn’t, not anymore. 

Off. She needed all of this stupid gear _off_. 

Angela started the process of unloading, feeling more and more unwilling as time went on. But every piece that came off was a weight off her shoulders, literally. Until she was standing in her underwear in the locker room, her entire suit dismantled before her. She needed to make repairs on it, the shoulder, but she couldn’t. Not right now, she didn’t have the mind to do so. Even looking at it made her sick again. 

She barely had half a mind to dress in her previous long sleeve and jeans before leaving the lockers, stuffing most of her suit haphazardly into its place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just being perfectly clear. Ana isn't mad. Just disappointed. Which feels much worse, I know. Not that she'd admit it to Angela, but she was terrified for her. 
> 
> Comments and Suggestions are always welcome y'all. I appreciate it. Makes my entire life so much better especially during these trying times.


	33. Ignorance Isn't Bliss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela revels in her emotions, while also trying to desperately deny them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayyy look a chapter. Hi I'm tig, I'm mildly exhausted, and I hope you all enjoyed this little piece.

Angela had forgotten just how much she hated the training drills. She had stopped them once she was going on more frequent missions; at that point, she was at least going with Rizzo weekly. The Strike Team was nearly as consistent.

But of course, now she was benched from any mission at all. Not until her performance rose and she could be relied on in battle more than just to heal. To gather the courage and strength and pull the trigger next time she fell alone. If anything, it had all made Angela want to resign from Overwatch. The stress of being forced to be something she wasn’t as well as Moira’s ever-looming gaze… Angela had thought that after all of what they went through, even though it hurt, it could be ignored. There wouldn’t be any more stares across the lab. No more peering over the shoulder, the harsh belittling… 

It seemed there was no mercy in sight for Angela. 

Now nearing the end of April, Angela felt no closer to reaching any goal. No scientific progress, no physical progress, and certainly no social progress. Moira had remained the same as if they had never even had sex with one another. After some point, Angela had no choice but to forgive Jesse for his ramblings to Ana, at the express promise and plea that he’d never do it again. 

Angela made her way back to her bunk after this morning’s training session. She didn’t stick around to hear what she got for time on their mile run. Nor did she want to even know the time for the obstacle course. All she knew is her body had hurt, she’d been at this for a little over a month, and she felt no closer to getting better. After getting practically slammed into the ground, she didn’t even want to go to the lab today. She didn’t need Moira’s very existence giving her more doubt. 

Even if they had agreed there would be nothing more, the fact that it was reached so easily was… something she’d been thinking about. Was it so easy that Moira could toss someone she had such an intimate moment with to the side? They had the same schedule, surely something could have been worked out. 

Sweaty and miserable, Angela pulled her ID to her door, forcing it to open before locking it on the inside. She collapsed on her bed shortly thereafter, laying on her back and staring up at the ceiling. Not an uncommon occurrence as of late. “I need to sleep…” She voiced to no one in particular, eyes tracing the sporadic patterns of the ceiling.“... I need to shower, too. I wonder if there's a rule against sleeping in the shower… but, I should probably eat.” 

Eventually, she merely groaned and rolled over, shoving her face into her pillow. Almost instantly she recoiled, pulling away with a disgusted snort. “Shower. Definitely shower first.” It was as if she had just settled an argument with herself. 

Through every bit of shuffling she could manage, she pulled off her boots. She could walk to the showers barefoot for all she cared. If she was so bold, Angela would assume there would be no one else rummaging down in the showers anyway. No one to watch her walk in like a disaster, and no one to possibly witness her passing out against the tile. At some point, Angela had genuinely accepted the thought of using the warm water as a lull to sleep. 

She walked as quickly as she could along the halls, just to get that peace of mind. Turning the corner to the corridor she knew she’d have a clear shot at the showers, Angela froze. 

Moira was down the same hallway, but why, Angela couldn’t fathom. She should have been in her lab at this point, right? It seemed she had just the same amount of confusion, her eyebrows raised as she examined Angela. “So this is where you ran off to.” She decided to quip. 

Angela tilted her head. “Pardon…?” 

“Amari came looking for you not too long ago,” Moira responded, straightening her stance and putting her hands behind her back. “I suppose she didn’t get to check your room yet.” Her voice didn’t hold a bite. Not the usual sort. 

Despite the new information, Angela shook her head. “I’m filthy. I need to shower.” She moved, working around Moira to get to her goal. She didn’t need difficulties. And she most certainly did not need a larger distraction in the form of a tall, handsome redhead. “The Captain can wait.” 

She only got a few more paces down the hall before Moira responded. “I was right, wasn’t I?” Moira had asked. “Morrison and Amari nearly left you for dead on that mission of yours.” 

As if it was a trigger for a reaction, Angela paused and let one hand go to her shoulder, where her new scar had lingered. Brighter than the rest. And unlike the rest of them, this one wasn’t fading away. “... So what if they did?” Angela asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m still alive now, and I’m working to become better in the Strike Team. So I can respond properly and keep up next time.” She said, curiously turning to look at Moira. 

Her colleague was less than impressed, only one eyebrow quirked up as she looked Angela up and down. “You enjoy lying to yourself don't you, Ziegler?” Moira asked. 

Angela shook her head, feeling her chest get tighter. Be it from the anxiety of the day, or upset at her accusations, she couldn’t tell. “I do no such thing.” She said promptly. 

“If that were true, we wouldn’t exactly be here. Your moral compass and trust in the good of humanity makes you find exploits in even your dark mind.” Moira said, almost like an informative piece. “Perhaps you might be easier to get on with.” 

She tilted her head. “... I don’t see a problem with my morals or faith in my team. They need me.” Angela responded, clutching her shower kit just a touch tighter in her hands. 

Moira merely shook her head. “They need your healing technology, they don’t need you. The sooner you can accept that the sooner you can begin to improve and strive, not for them, but for yourself.” She explained before turning away and starting down the hallway again. “A bright mind like you does not need to be undermined by those who do not understand its mechanics, Ziegler. Have a good shower.” 

Angela was nearly frozen in her place. Moira was right, and she had been right. Ana might’ve cared for Angela as a person, but Jack? Absolutely not. 

The realization was more weight put on her, but also a whole different kind lifted off. Moira was also right that she was lying to herself. At least about this. Just accepting this menial truth was enough for her to start thinking just a little differently. 

Or well, it would. When she was no longer distracted by the likes of Moira. 

Even as Angela made her way to the shower at last, delighted as she was to find it empty, her mind lingered on thoughts that she should be forgetting. They had agreed. Just that night, nothing more. It was for the best. 

Angela stripped her sweaty clothes off, finding herself naked before long in the shower stall she intended to use; clothes folded and waiting on the bench next to her robe. She didn’t feel like dressing once she finished showering. For once, she didn’t even wait for the water to heat up as she turned it on, immediately stepping into liquid icicles. She shivered, but nothing more as she leaned into the wall. The water soaked her hair, running down her back.

Tenderly, Angela reached around to touch at her shoulder, where her newest scar had been. Her fingertips only lightly brushed the surface, but it felt harsh, almost like electricity. For the smallest of moments, she allowed herself to think. To wonder. 

Moira had examined her like a precious gem. Ran her fingers across every single scar she had received since she started her experiments. Previously, Angela’s body was clear of injury, until that damn blast. She personally thought, as interesting as her scars were, they were still horrid and ugly, nasty things. 

But… Moira didn’t seem to think so. 

Even if she was marveling at her for her work, Angela had never felt more wholly appreciative of her work until that moment. Moira treating them as pieces of art, rather than a horrible reminder of attack and assault. 

Before Angela knew it, her hand was falling in a familiar pattern. The same trail that Moira had left, brushing her hands over her body, feeling exactly where she had felt. Angela couldn’t think of the same praise for herself, but she allowed herself to remember every single sweet word she heard that night. 

_Your advancements are astounding. They also are why I find you so attractive._

Angela let out a small whimper, muffled out by the water trailing down her body as her hand reached that oh so special place. She didn’t mean to indulge like this. But… Well, this sort of thing was supposed to help with stress and it wouldn’t be the first time she’d fallen victim to selfish pleasure. 

It wasn’t, however, helping her with her problem of getting over Moira. 

She touched, tracing her fingers in that oh so delightful pattern she had felt Moira’s fingers trace. She pulled her free hand to her mouth to help in muffling her sounds, hoping the water would do the rest of the work for her. Over time in practicing this, she learned to read her own body’s signals and signs. The way her muscles would tense, nearly quiver when she grew close. How her breath would hitch. 

Then it all would spill. Like an avalanche. 

She pressed her back against the wall as her body shook, wracking with the pleasure she brought herself to. It was a low scale, compared to what Moira made her feel that night. But it would do good to tide her over for the moment. Lessen her desire. Her need. 

Angela finally let her eyes open up, refocusing on the moment and herself. The water cascading down her body. Those scars… She shut her eyes again rather quickly, shaking her head loose of her thoughts, even if that wasn’t how they really went away. She was here to get the stench out of her hair, nothing more. 

\--- ---

In the dead of night, after she was sure Moira had gone to bed as well as most of the base, Angela had slipped through the halls. She wore proper clothing, all except her shoes. Instead of her more lab appropriate clogs, she had brought slippers. She didn’t intend on staying there for long. Being cooped up in her room all day did nothing to make it easy to sleep that night… So, a small walk amongst the lab, perhaps even greet Moira’s new lab animals, if she had any. She wasn’t nearly in the lab long enough to see if she had or not. 

The door opened with an oh so familiar clunk. The smell of chemicals hit her in waves, and she moved to her side. Her nanites were still ticking away inside their container, and her staff was laying against the wall. Next to it all, her suit was hanging off the frame, charging cable in place to keep them energized. Even looking at it now made her a little sick. The only object missing from the ensemble was her emergency pistol. That, she personally kept in her lockers, away from her fragile technology. That, and she didn’t want such a violent object in her possessions. 

She moved, running her hands over the fabric of the left arm on her suit. She had stitched it well, there was almost no sign of the previous tear. But of course, the true sign was on her own arm. Still golden, still crisp with nanites keeping the skin together. 

She hated it. 

The door to the lab had opened again. Angela felt the blood in her veins run ice-cold as she turned violently to see who had entered. Of course, it was none other than Moira. Did this woman have a penchant for following her around all day? 

Moira seemed just as surprised to see Angela there as Angela was to see her. “Emergency mission?” Moira cocked an eyebrow up. It appeared in her hands was a mug, fresh steaming coffee within. 

“N… No,” Angela responded, her hands leaving the suit alone, falling back to her sides. “I… Couldn’t sleep.” 

She merely hummed as she sat at her desk, something Angela wasn’t sure if she should find insulting or complimentary. “Struck with inspiration I take it?” Moira asked then instead, pulling a few data sheets to her front. 

Curiously, Angela eyed them from afar. She had learned that Moira only ever made deviations to her schedule when a breakthrough was in sight. Tonight appeared to be one of them. It almost made her feel like she was intruding on a sacred ritual. Which, technically, it was. “No,” Angela responded softly, her voice was quite small as she returned her focus to her suit. “I’m sorry. I should be getting back to bed.” 

A hum was her response, just for a moment. Although Angela didn’t really move. Not for a moment. Something kept her there, frozen, and she hated it. She just wished that she could tell what it was. 

“You know, Ziegler. Usually, I would agree with you as extra bodies prove to be a distraction.” Moira spoke instead, prompting Angela to look in her direction. “But perhaps I could use your assistance.” 

Angela tilted her head. “What could I possibly help you with at this hour?” 

She almost swore she could have seen a smirk, but the lab was quite dim at this hour. “Would you perhaps mind being my rubber duck for the moment? I’ve no lab animals and I’m afraid Amari is hesitant about allowing funds to get me more.” For once, Moira genuinely sounded as if she was in need. If that small flat in her tone was anything to go by. 

Without a note of hesitation, Angela nodded. “I can do that.” She agreed. 

The agreement actually caused Moira to look up from her data sheet, looking at Angela’s face from across the room. They were so far apart, Angela couldn’t quite see her expression, but knew just from the silence alone it was one of intrigue, if not surprise. “You’ll willingly sit here and listen to me.” It wasn’t quite phrased as a question, more of a half-assed statement. “... At nearly midnight?” 

“Well.” Angela grabbed her chair, moving to pull it across the room to plant it at Moira’s desk. “I know I won't be able to sleep for a little while. And, it’s much better than listening to… other things. So, yes. I’ll listen to you. That is all you need, isn't it?” 

Moira blinked, almost appearing dumbfounded at Angela’s statement. Having gotten the one up on Moira, even if it was something so small, gave Angela a small jolt of confidence. She smiled a little, folding her hands in her lap and almost appearing innocent. 

She cleared her throat, looking back at her sheet. Without any confirmation of Angela’s question, she started speaking off, reading the data then responding to herself. Self analyzation. It was actually rather interesting to listen to. Moira spoke like a well-rounded poet when she wasn’t being bitter. Having a practical discussion with herself. Angela listened intently, even if she only had a vague grasp of what Moira was trying to figure out to herself. 

Something about reprogramming cells. Reconstructing them with proper alleles to mitigate certain genetic conditions. If Angela was guessing correctly, it had something to do with the animals that suffered from colorblindness. Was that the proper method of solving that problem? Angela herself wasn’t sure. But by the time she had internally figured one thing out, Moira was rambling about a different section of her notes and observations. At some point, it almost sounded like Moira was reading a published paper out loud. It was an experience to listen to it. The development and the thought process. And finally how Moira had seemed to work out either a solution or the next step in her research. 

Though, by that point in time, Angel was far too exhausted to really process English. She hadn’t been paying attention for the last ten minutes. Not that she needed to pay attention. The role of a rubber duck was to be a vent piece to whoever was using it. She had occasionally used her nanites for the same purpose. 

Angela found herself dozing off to Moira’s words after quite a while. She had only noticed after her eyes registered Moira standing still for a touch too long, staring right back at her. She perked up, blinking her eyes and staring back up at her. “Sorry, I’m listening…” Angela’s voice was halfway slurred. 

Moira, however, wasn’t convinced. She merely shook her head. “I’ve been drowning on for almost an hour. You’re bored.” 

“No no, I’m not.” Angela shook her head, straightening out in her back. “I’m listening. Replacing the genes in the rats and. Hopefully, the next generation will not show signs of the deficit…” she let out a small, almost strangled yawn. 

Despite her initial suspicion, Moira nodded. “I think I’ve gotten all the words I need out in the world.” She settled on, putting her paper down. “Go to bed, Ziegler. You’re going to need it if you want to avoid Amari kicking your ass tomorrow.” She said. 

That most certainly made her blush. It wasn’t any secret that she was being put through drills again, but having Moira comment on it certainly was. That, unfortunately, meant that she was also right in Angela’s need for rest. So she stood, oddly unsure of how to dismiss herself. “Right. Um. Good night then, Doctor O’Deorain.” her voice was barely above a whisper. 

Moira had nodded. “Good night, Doctor Ziegler.” A simple farewell, but Angela could live with that. They were coworkers. Absolutely nothing more.

She took herself, finding her ID in her pocket before making her way to the door, awake enough to find her way towards her room. It was a much longer walk than Angela remembered it being. Once inside, Angela collapsed on her bed without even shaking off her clothes. After having listened to a constant, soothing voice for damn near an hour, she was halfway lulled to sleep. Changing clothes now would ruin the peace. 

Dampness dabbled at the corners of Angela’s eyes, and for the life of her she couldn’t figure out why. She was fine. No nightmares, no trauma, and certainly no arguments. 

She was fine. She had to be. Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love denial. Don't you? I don't really have a lot of words for after this chapter, other than I just want to demonstrate how bad Angela is at managing her personal emotions; which, honestly, big fucking same. 
> 
> Comments and Suggestions are always welcome, even if it comes in the form of discord messages. You guys are wonderful and I enjoy everything you have to say regarding the fic and how I write. Thank you all in advance <3


	34. Another Day in the Life of Moira O'Deorain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moira reflects on the events shared between her and Angela, and the emotions she feels now that she's tried to push them down after their sexual encounter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I'm so sorry for not updating. I've... been going through a lot, to keep it simple. But, I've finally pushed out a chapter, and I hope I can continue to do so.

Angela Ziegler was a whole new kind of enigma to the complicated equation that was Moira’s life. 

Even though Moira had taken Angela to bed and reveled in it for at least twelve hours, the feelings she so desperately tried to squash out did not fade. In fact, They had only grown stronger over time. The previous month she had quite literally spoken her thesis and processes to her until she had fallen asleep in the lab. Moira didn’t need a ‘rubber duck’ to speak to, but she wanted an excuse to keep Angela in the lab. As for why she felt the need to do it, she knew the answer but she didn’t like it. 

Angela’s routine had changed again, but she caught on quickly. She had morning training sessions with the grunts and foot soldiers after her previous abysmal performance with the Strike Team. Once she was finished being punished by Jack Morrison, Angela would find her way to the lab, sometimes with food, sometimes without, just after the peak of lunch hour where Moira herself was finished indulging her minimalistic lunch. She would linger, write more reports, work on programming for the nanites, or she was fine-tuning her staff or wings. Where the masterpiece of scientific ingenuity usually hung upon a mannequin, it was absent. That was enough to tell Moira she was on a mission with the C Team that she initially traveled with. However, her lunch hour disturbance seemed to persist.

When the doors opened at 1 PM, Moira lifted her eyes from her current annotated work. Ana Amari stood in the doorway, hands behind her back, looking more than omnipotent. The expression on her face was damn near unreadable, or at least it was to Moira, only half paying attention. “Ah, Doctor O’Deorain.” Ana’s voice was clear, but not any more impressed than usual. “Not that I expected to find you anywhere else, but I am glad that you’re here.” 

“This is my lab, I don’t see why I wouldn’t be here,” Moira said dryly, putting her pen down and standing from her desk, very easily mirroring Ana’s pose, not as a challenge, but some vague form of self-respect to at least address her. “What do I owe the pleasure, Amari?” She raised an eyebrow. Usually, when the Captain had paid her visits, it was typically to reprimand her, or it was to retrieve Angela. Seeing as her young colleague was lost on a mission elsewhere, and Moira had kept to herself, the visit seemed unnecessary. 

Ana merely smiled in her general direction. “Merely to take an observation over how Doctor Ziegler has been doing within your watch. Ask questions, get a general idea.” Ana said simply, walking closer to allow the lab’s door to close. 

That wasn’t quite the most satisfactory response and only proved to make Moira more confused. “You haven’t been reading her reports? Or do you wish to hear every horrible thing I have to say about our fair young Doctor?” Moira asked instead, taking her seat back and folding her hands on her desk. 

“I’ve been reading her reports. They’re actually quite thorough. But there are some things that a simple report from her point of view can’t supply.” Ana said simply. “I know she has been working, but does she focus as much as she appears?” It almost sounded like she was suggesting something, tiptoeing around something that Moira would know the answer to. It became a game that Moira didn’t necessarily want to play. Even if the realm of science was something Moira would usually be very open in, Angela had generously requested she not tell anyone. And even if she disregarded it, Ana and Jack would likely not see Angela’s point of view, and likely deny her from finishing her work. Moira saw her as a valuable colleague, and if her career ended here, that would be robbing humanity of medical brilliance. 

So, she sighed. “She’s disturbingly focused. Her German chatter is a mind annoyance from time to time. I personally prefer at least to understand the ramblings of my labmates.” Moira tapped her fingers together. “What exactly are you trying to dig for? She is as much of a perfect little angel that you expect her to be.” 

Despite the fact it was a small description, Ana nodded along with each word. “I suppose there isn’t any sort of personal disturbances otherwise that you’ve taken note of, Doctor O’Deorain?” Ana asked simply, her more friendly appearing face falling to that of an intense look a guardian might give. 

“You speak of my personal _preferences_.” Moira said simply, her face falling into quite the seated frown. “Whatever you may be suggesting, Captain Amari, I’m going to have to shut it down. I’ve no innate interest in Doctor Ziegler.” 

Ana glared her down for only a moment more before she let out a hollow laugh. If Moira were anyone else in this building, she might’ve been concerned. “She certainly doesn’t feel quite the same way. “Ana responded before too much longer, the smile almost too sugary sweet to be good. “While I may not see it in her reports, I certainly see it in her movements on the field and within hallways, whenever we have conversations. She’s distracted by something, Doctor. And that something, rather _someone_ is you. Jesse McCree also isn’t very tight-lipped around these halls.” 

For a small moment, Moira considered cursing out in her mother tongue. Jesse was a risk to talk with in general, seeing as he was a Blackwatch Agent rather than an Overwatch agent. So anything she could have said had the chance of reaching Commander Reyes. But even so, it going to Ana wasn’t something she anticipated. Especially on the concern of Angela’s needs. Perhaps they were closer friends than she had previously thought. “I haven’t been making advances if that is what you’re thinking. If she has feelings or acts in certain ways, that has nothing to do with my influence.” Moira stated simply. “In fact, I’ve been actively trying to turn her away from me. I have no time or place in my life for any such relationship, even if you can make one work with the oaf.” She waved it off, pulling her pen back and her article to her attention. This wasn’t something she needed right now and she would do her best to ignore it. 

It didn’t seem that Ana was too impressed with the mild insult, however, as her faux uplifting mood disappeared. “I’m going to pretend I don’t hear your repeated insults towards the man keeping your coworker mildly grounded,” Ana responded to that particular quip. “Even if you don’t, At least do everyone a favor, Doctor O’Deorain. At least have some sort of not emotionally charged conversation with her to get her to understand there is no hope for intimacy. Or whatever your personal issues may be. Her distraction is manifesting in ways that they shouldn’t be” 

Moira once more waved the issue away. She didn’t have a plan on how to deal with Angela, but she certainly didn’t have any wiggle room to take advice from Ana of all people. She drowned out any other possible existence of Ana before she acknowledged the door opening and closing. Once she was sure that Ana was gone, allowing her peace in her own lab. At least, until she was finished annotating the article. Strangely enough, it was one of Angela’s first few papers she had published. Her English phrasing in writing was that much better than her trying to explain certain things in English, even if she had a much better grasp on it now than she did a year ago. 

Upon realizing it really _had_ been a year since Angela had come to Overwatch, Moira was unable to continue reading over her notes. She put down her pen and paper and rolled back from her desk, letting out a soft sigh, rubbing at her face. It had been a year, hadn’t it? A year of the girl once seen as frustrating, inexperienced, and childish, being inside of her lab and creating not one but two marvels of science. Moira wasn’t sure if she would allow it to be properly known to Angela outside of her words of praise from the bedroom, but she was impressed. Impressed and intrigued and she was overall enamoured. Science and revelation was certainly one way to Moira’s heart, and she hadn’t known it. The mere fact that her desire and wanting hadn’t disappeared after the initial bout of sex they had was telling enough. 

Moira never dated. She didn’t date after her teenage years, that was time spent wasted. To anyone who couldn’t match her intellect, her drive, her passion, her time was absolutely wasted. The most important thing in her life was her work, her devotion to genetics, and the advancement of human society based on her findings. No one had been able to match her level in anything regarding hard work and dedication. 

Until Angela. 

Even if her initial opinion of Angela was piss poor, she had certainly grown as a scientist, a doctor, and a sociable person. And the most interesting part about all of those things is she was so young, so driven. She was still heavily annoying at times, Moira was not going to ignore that. But she couldn’t ignore how infatuated she had become. The largest turning event just so happened to be when Angela decided to throw herself off that damn cliff. 

There was something about seeing her rise above the rocks, gliding over the ocean, her brilliant invention strapped to her back. It was a beautiful, brilliant marvel of science to allow one person to fly. The addition of seeing Angela’s happiest, the carefree expression on her face as she flew into her. How truly joyous she was at the success of her invention. That was a pivotal moment, and every single time Moira tried to tell herself to forget their history, that moment would come to her. The beautiful, brilliant, carefree moment. Angela was beside herself, and she was beautiful when she let go of her inhibitions. 

She was even more so when she had slammed with the entire force of her weight into Moira and a kiss. 

“Damn…” Moira sighed before long, practically throwing her pen to the ground. She ran her hand through her hair, ignoring the stiff and stick from her hair gel. “What the fuck are you doing, O’Deorain…” She mumbled. Before long, Moira stood from her chair and took her labcoat with her. There was no hope in focusing on something so menial, not when she was this distracted. If she felt so inclined, she could have put herself elsewhere, abandoning her work for the entire day. Usually, such a thought would not cross her, as Moira was devoted to her work entirely. 

Angela Fucking Ziegler, only someone like her could cause such distraction and turmoil in Moira’s life. 

She left her lab, hands united behind her with her head held high. Even if Moira herself felt like she was about to drive herself mad with her thoughts, she wouldn’t allow herself to fall. That was at least one thing she was far better at than anyone realized, her capability to remain visibly composed. Angela was someone that challenged her in odd ways, even if they didn’t always fight on it. She was the only one to draw out such passionate stances… She was also the only one to drive Moira to such madness and indulge physically without much thought. 

Perhaps it wasn’t a bad thing, Moira mused as she reached the outside doors, the fresh air and slight breeze ticking whatever loose strands of hair that hung around her face. Though the definition of ‘bad’ could very well warp that statement. What Moira knew for sure, is that no other human being had driven her to such a point of self-reflection and questioning. 

She lit up a cigarette, taking a slow drag of it before letting it all go, and she leaned against the railing unceremoniously. This was a repulsive activity, that she knew, and yet she did it anyway. The fact that she had discovered Angela was indulgent in this activity as well was another kind of revelation. Moira was just as enraptured by all of Angela’s flaws as she was her perks. It wasn’t the activity that she was enamoured with, of course, but the fact that she had fallen to such grace to also partake in this activity, for a medical doctor no less. Moira almost snorted at the association, flicking some ash away. 

She remained in her silence, allowing herself to ponder the things she thought and felt. It was odd to have another human being on her mind so often in this particular way. 

Perhaps coming outside wasn’t the best move, as the breeze only reminded her more and more of what Angela was doing at that particular moment. Flying high through the skies, keeping an eye on the poor whelps of soldiers. The wings were a fabrication of amazing and unique science. She never looked more beautiful than exploiting her genius. 

Before long, Moira merely flicked the half-burnt cigarette away. This wasn’t something fresh air would do her from. She had turned on her heel, going to make her way back inside when the door had opened, seemingly on its own accord. Upon seeing Jesse McCree, nearly face to face, her blank expression darkened. “Cowboy.” She addressed him. 

Jesse paused a moment, looking her up and down before tilting his hat. “Doc Ock.” He responded, not necessarily with a kind voice, but a firmer tone. “Lovely day out, isn’t it?” 

Moira rolled her eyes. “Cut the shit, Jesse.” She responded, electing to move back to the rail. “What business do you have talking to Captain Amari about mine and Doctor Ziegler’s personal relationship?” She decided to ask, more irritated about that now that she had seen his face. Perhaps she could have excused it, perhaps she could have ignored it. But seeing him irritated her.

“I talked about the good Doc. Not you.” Jesse defended, pulling out his cigarette to light. “I’m worried about her. She needed a woman’s advice. Just cause I’m not straight doesn’t mean she’s gonna wanna hear about it from me.” He tacked, lighting it up. 

She openly scoffed, rolling her eyes. “So you send the infant bisexual woman to the harpy eagle.” Moira said, pinching the bridge of her nose in the process. 

Jesse shook his head. “I didn’t send her. I just mentioned she was struggling. The captain saw it too!” He defended. 

Even so, she was less impressed than she was before. “You really enjoy putting yourself into other people's business, don’t you?” 

“Not any more than you enjoy getting reamed by the captain when you fuck up some perfectly good lab assistants. If you think about it, I did you a favor.” Jesse pointed out, turning to lean with his back on the bar to observe Moira further. She paid him no mind, however. “Maybe now Angela won’t file a harassment report because she’s confused.” 

“Joy.” Moira felt rather indifferent. Something was going to happen regardless of if there was outside interference. She just wished it was over by now. She slumped back over the railing, looking out to the distant sky and sea. Somewhere Angela was flying, the thought of all the brilliance was something that sent her over the edge. Memories of a night that was supposed to be forgotten and abandoned came back to her, vividly, recalling how passionate they had both gotten. Angela was a brilliant scientist… and she was ever so much more. 

Her thoughts were disrupted. A gloved hand waved in front of her face and she had to turn back to Jesse, who for once in her presence, looked concerned. “You alright, Doc?” He asked before long. Possibly not concerned, but rather confused. 

In that small moment, Moira could feel the touch of red that was staining her pale face. Rather than respond to Jesse at all, she returned her dignified stance and made her way for the door. What was floating in her mind had nothing to do with Jesse now. Rather, how she was going to continue to handle the Angela crisis at hand. 

There was nothing she could do to stop how she felt. Would another bout of sex change the way she thought or felt about Angela? Would one more taste of perfect heaven keep her grounded long enough to find a different solution? And even if it wouldn’t, how would she continue to handle this? Knowing Angela was visibly distracted enough from everything else on occasion, her mind filled with similar thoughts. Would she adhere to their word or would she rather indulge again? 

The sooner that Moira could overcome the predicament, the confusion that was Angela Ziegler, the sooner her life would be at peace. She would be able to refocus on her work, and perhaps she wouldn’t be on her way to her quarters to drown the worry out. 

She knew she should have thrown a shot, or several, of something into her coffee this morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't exactly have much to say, I just wanted to split off and give everyone an update on our favorite geneticist... I hope you all don't mind. and, perhaps there's more smut in the future. Anyhow, I hope you guy's enjoyed it. Comments and suggestions are always welcome to help Tig's keep up the updates and positivity. We all could use good words now more than ever. Thank you all.


End file.
